


Gold and Silver Cracks

by silverneko9lives0



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Exploitation, F/M, Falling In Love, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Incest, Love/Hate, Lust, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pedophilia, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Severus to the Rescue, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Sirius to the rescue, Teachers to the Rescue, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Why are you reading it?, seriously, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: ON HIATUSBefore Hogwarts, Harry was subjected to horrid abuse. Sirius and Severus are going to do something about it.Triggers: Pedophilia, Underage Rape, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Exploitation of a Minor, Uncle-Nephew Incest, ProstitutionPairings: Harry/Draco, Sirius/Severus, Harry/Multiple, Draco/VoldemortREAD THE DAMN TAGS BEFORE READING THIS STORY





	1. Chapter 1

It began not long after his fourth birthday.

Dudley was spending the weekend at a friend’s house and Petunia had gone out with a few girl friends to the country, leaving Harry alone with Vernon and a few of Vernon’s friends. He tried to ignore them, focusing instead on finishing dinner and cleaning the kitchen before taking his own meager helping.

“Come here, Boy,” one of them—Mr. Oswell, Harry’s mind supplied—called. Harry approached and Oswell pressed the lip of his beer bottle to his lips. “Have a sip.”

He glanced at Vernon, who waved him on, a strange look in his eye. It made him uncomfortable, but he obeyed, taking in a sip of vile, bitter liquid. He coughed, and the beer spilled out of his mouth.

“Potter, you’re making a mess!”

“Now, Vern, you know it takes time to get a taste for this stuff.” Oswell said, pulling Harry into his lap. “He can clean it up later.”

Vernon grumbled, turning back to the telly. Harry wiggled a bit as Oswell’s hand moved between his legs and he smelled Harry’s hair. The large hand slid under his shirt.

“Just relax, Lad,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “You’ll like it in a bit. Close your eyes and breathe.” Harry obeyed. It did make it a little easier. Oswell’s hand moved back down and out of his shirt.

“Mind if we have a bit of privacy, Vernon?”

“Use my bedroom. He’ll clean it up before Petunia comes home Sunday.”

Harry opened his eyes, a little startled at being lifted. He didn’t understand what was going on at first, but the attention was…

Somewhere between nice and strange. Once in the bedroom, Harry was laid on the bed. Oswell kissed him, pressing his hand between Harry’s legs again before pulling the clothes off him.

“We’ll start gently, Harry, okay?”

Harry swallowed, but nodded. Oswell ran his hands over Harry’s legs and dipped his head down…

After him was Knill and then Johnstone.

All three seemed to have an interest in kissing and petting him. He ended up feeling good and tingly from it, leaving him rather tired. In the end it wasn’t that bad, and he figured he had nothing to be nervous about in the end.

The next morning, Vernon told him to shower and dress. They went out to breakfast and on their return, Vernon sat him down at the table.

“How do you feel? Not too tired?”

“No.”

“Sore?”

“No. I liked it a bit.”

He stared at Harry, as though trying to gauge whether he was lying or not. Satisfied he wasn’t, he cleared his throat. “How would you like to start earning a little money? I’ll put it aside in a savings account at the bank. If you want to get something, you need only tell me and we’ll get it out for you to use. It’ll only be a weekend a month, so it won’t interfere with school or your chores.”

Harry thought about it, then nodded.

“What you did for Mr. Oswell, Mr. Knill, and Mr. Johnstone last night is all you need to do to earn some money. There may be others who will show up, but as long as you don’t hurt yourself and they don’t hurt you, it’ll be all right.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

“Some might want to hurt you,” Vernon said. “But I will make sure they don’t try to. If they do, then you let me know. Understood?”

Harry nodded.

By the time he started school at Hogwarts, Harry was aware it wasn’t normal, this “job” he was doing, but kept it secret from Petunia, and his teachers, and especially his friends.

The need…the feelings…

He had grown addicted to it. If he told someone he fancied he wanted them to be his “first,” well, not a lot of them were going to deny the Boy-Who-Lived.

As long as it was secret, and as long as he wasn’t caught, Harry could get off easily. He chose his partners carefully. Never anyone who would get it out to the whole school.

Feigning innocence and anxiousness was part of the allure of his job, anyway.

And if it helped his partners to keep their lips shut…

Even better…

~Grimauld Place, Eleven Years Later~

He leaned against the door to the library, heart pounding. He was going to do it. It should be okay. Remus wasn’t a teacher anymore, after all. It was risky, but _fuck_ …

He _needed_ something more mature than his usual pickings and most of the group was off limits. He was a little younger than his clients, but still…

Harry knocked, waiting for Remus’ response. He smiled at him and his confidence grew at the returning smile on Remus’ face.

“Looking for something, Harry?”

“Just wanted to say hello, again. Privately. We haven’t spent time together since you left school the year before last. I missed you, Professor.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘Professor,’” Remus said, a hint of amused exasperation in his voice. “You can call me ‘Remus,’ Harry.”

“Feels a bit too informal, Sir,” Harry replied, carefully approaching him. He sat beside Remus at the table and bumped his knee against Remus’. It moved away.

“Sorry,” Remus said, crossing his legs instead. “You know, I thought you’d want to go on a walk with Sirius and Tonks.” Sirius would have to be a dog and wear a leash, but it allowed him to leave the house even if just for short periods of time.

“Nah, I’ve the rest of the summer with Sirius. Who knows how long you’ll stick around?”

“I’m staying here, too,” Remus said. “It’s not as though I can really get a decent job with what I am?”

He meant being a werewolf, but Harry leaned against the table. “Hard working? Dedicated? Sensible? It doesn’t seem fair that being a werewolf would condemn you when you’ve so many great qualities.”

Remus sniffed, then blinked, staring at Harry. Could he smell the arousal on him? Was that another thing a werewolf could do? Smell how desperate he needed to be fucked? Harry smiled and moved a little closer, resting his hand on Remus’ knee.

“I learned so much from you, Sir,” he said. “Maybe you could teach me some more? Privately?” he slid his hand up Remus’ thigh, expecting Remus to give in as others have before, client and pursued. He hadn’t accounted for the opposite.

Remus jumped out of the chair, which clattered to the floor.

“What are you doing?” he shouted. “I knew your parents! I was there when you were born! Harry, I’m, uh…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. I’m not going to do…whatever you seem to want me to.”

“But you can smell it? Doesn’t it make you want me too—”

“No,” Remus snapped. “No, it doesn’t.”

“At least think about it?”

“I won’t. I’m not interested in a child—and yes, you may be fifteen now, but you’re still a child, Harry. There’s plenty of others your own age, who might be interested in a little exploration. You’ll be fine.”

“But I don’t want them,” Harry said. He could salvage this. He could still wear him down. He approached Remus and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “I want you, Remus. Just you. Just the night? Please?”

Remus pulled him off and pushed him back. “No.”

“You know, if you’re already shagging someone, you could just say so.”

“Harry, why do you want me to sleep with you?”

“Well, why not? Why do you not want to sleep with me? You might actually like it.”

Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There are so many reasons why I don’t. Most of those would have to do with that it’s _illegal_.”

“What’s illegal?”

Harry turned around to Sirius.

“Thank the gods,” Remus sighed. “Sirius, you talk to him because I clearly can’t right now.”

He strode away from Harry and whispered in Sirius’ ear. The confusion etched on Sirius’ face morphed to shock, then sternness. Remus left. The door rattled from the force of its closing, making Harry jump a little.

Sirius approached. “How about you take a seat,” he said, motioning to one of the arm chairs by the fireplace. Harry sat down across from him. For a few long painstakingly long minutes, they were silent.

“Okay. Harry, you can’t proposition someone to have sex that’s seventeen and over. It’s illegal. I get that you’ve a lot of hormones rushing through your body right now. That’s completely normal. But you really should just be with someone your own age. When you’re seventeen, you can go ahead and date older blokes or birds if you like. Until then, you need to stick with others your age. Okay?”

Harry leaned back, muttering under his breath: “It’s not been a problem before.”

“What?” Sirius snapped.

Harry jumped, startled by the shift of tone.

“You’ve not been with adults, have you?”

Harry swallowed, unable to turn away from Sirius as lie after lie ran through his head. In the end, he dropped his shoulders and nodded. “It’s an arrangement I had with Vernon,” he said. “I’ve never been hurt. Not once being with an adult.”

“How long?”

“Um…around a decade?”

“A decade?!” Sirius shouted. Harry could _feel_ more than see the fury in Sirius eyes. “And you never told anyone?”

“Who was I going to tell?”

“Any of us!” Sirius said. “You could have told _any_ of us. Even before you were at Hogwarts, you went to a muggle school, yes?”

Harry nodded.

“You could have told your teachers there, too. Did your aunt know?”

He shook his head.

“You could have told her. I don’t know if she’d would have done something to help you, but you could have told her.” He took a breath and knelt before Harry. “Okay, Kid, this isn’t your fault. When you were that young, you didn’t know any better. Whatever Dursley did or allowed, he _never_ should have done it. And he won’t ever again.”

“Vernon didn’t touch me.”

“I don’t care. He let others touch you and you are a minor. He used you. Those people he let near you used you. He’s not going anywhere near you again. I swear it.”

He stood. “We’re going to talk about this some more, but right now, I think we both need a bit of time, yeah?” Harry shrugged. Sirius swallowed. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” Harry replied with a nod. Even though Sirius said he didn’t blame him, he felt blamed. Dirty. He never felt this way before.

“I love you, Kid. I love you more than you can imagine, and we’ll fix this, okay?”

Harry could only nod. It seemed to be enough for Sirius, who left. As soon as he was alone, he pulled his legs up and removed his glasses, hiding his face behind his knees.

#

Explaining what Harry had told him took more effort than Sirius thought it would.

Molly had left the room, weeping. Most of them were shaking as badly as he was. Even Snape, though usually scowling, was practically snarling.

Albus was silent. He exhaled. “I will go to the Dursleys’ residence tomorrow. Severus, could you get an idea with Harry?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not going to cast a legilimency charm on the boy just to verify what we’ve just heard. I will be there with you, at that house, though, to gauge his relatives.”

“And if the aunt _is_ complicit?” Moody asked.

“Then they will both be arrested if what I find holds up in the Wizengamot.”

“Unfortunately, that might not be the case, but we can hold them on suspicion of child abuse,” Shacklebolt stated. “But ultimately, Harry will have to speak up about his experience with them. And, Dumbledore, blood magic or not, he cannot go back to them. It was bad before, now there’s more at risk than just mental and emotional abuse.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

“I want to go, too,” Sirius said.

“No,” Dumbledore said. “You can’t control your emotions, Sirius. And we need to maintain control. Though, granted, I don’t know how I will fare in this…incident.”

Snape exhaled, standing. “Excuse me,” he said, leaving the kitchen.

Sirius watched him, wondering when Snape started caring for Harry. He arched a brow when Snape slammed a fist into the wall. While the others discussed what options laid available for them, Sirius dismissed himself and approached Snape.

“You seem to be taking it harder than I thought you would.”

Snape glared at him. “His father was your best friend. Everyone here knows that. They tend to love forgetting that his mother was _my_ best friend. I may owe James Potter a life debt that I can never fulfill, but I work hard to make sure the boy is safe on Lily’s behalf. So, tell me, should I feel any less as a failure in protecting him as you do? And you were in prison. You have a good excuse for not being there for him. I don’t.” He leaned against the wall. “I don’t. I was angry at him. If I had just fucking gotten over myself, maybe I could have—” He covered his face and exhaled shakily. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I’m not fine, either. But hey: we can fix it.”

“Black, he’s been raped and he doesn’t even understand that. He doesn’t realize he’s in pieces.” Severus lowered his hand. “I’ve got to go.” He announced his departure to the rest of the Order before heading to the fireplace to floo home.

Sirius sighed and looked up at the banister. Ron and Hermione watched, expressions unreadable. He approached them.

“How much did you hear?”

Ron’s ears turned red and Hermione bit her lip.

“Enough, then,” he said. “Look: Harry will tell you in his own time. Don’t push him, don’t hint that you know. Just act natural, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione said.

Ron just nodded, revealing the Extendable Ear he probably nicked from his brothers. He played with it, almost as though he didn’t know what to do with it.

“And don’t tell the twins and Ginny. I don’t want Harry overwhelmed.” They nodded. “Thank you, you two. Go on. Scram before Molly finds you.”

Hermione pulled Ron back toward their rooms. Sirius leaned against the banister.

_James, what do I do? I don’t know what to do._

#

Draco couldn’t stop shaking. His father insisted that he should be honored.

Before him, it was his aunt, Bellatrix, and with her being in prison, she couldn’t very well continue to be the Dark Lord’s consort.

His mother tried to assure him that it’d be okay, but somehow he didn’t believe her. She likely didn’t believe it herself.

He was given a short lesson of what he’d need to do to prepare for the night, but…

Draco tried to chalk it up to anxiety. He also tried to convince himself it would just be until his aunt got out of Azkaban—he knew there was a plan to break out some of the more radical, the madder Death Eaters. His aunt likely gave herself completely. He only heard of Bellatrix. Knew she was married—not that it mattered.

And apparently his being underage didn’t matter, either. He got out of the bathtub and dried. His stomach rebelled and he ran to the toilet, vomiting. Maybe if he was sick enough…

 _Stop trying to delay the inevitable_ , he told himself, spitting the remains into the toilet and flushed it down. He waited to see if more bile needed release. Satisfied that he didn’t, he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth.

A knock at the door told him his attire for the night was ready. He wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed the folded pile.

Satin pajamas. Black. Of course. Resting on top was a leather collar.

He’d be expected to wear it on exiting the bathroom. Draco exhaled.

_Just get it over with. Sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner I can go to my own bedroom._

Draco donned the clothes (noting that a pair of underpants was excluded from the set), and locked the collar around his neck. He could feel its magic, binding him to the Dark Lord as his new consort.

 _More like whore_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied.

Draco pushed the thought away and left. The halls were lined with Death Eaters that had managed to get out of Azkaban or never were there. He hoped they wouldn’t be watching. He was going to have a hard time getting it up just with the Dark Lord there, let alone all of them watching him.

He passed by them, trying to ignore their stares. Two followed him into the bedroom.

The room was lit by candles. The bed was dressed in a green duvet set. The bed frame was metal, painted black, and bore a set of chains and cuffs.

Draco tried to back away, but one of the Death Eaters seized him.

“Here,” the other said, his mother’s voice coming from the mask. She held a vial in her gloved hand. “It will help,” she assured him.

Draco swallowed and took the vial, downing its contents in one swift gulp.

“There, Sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “You’ll be all right.”

 _Liar_ , he thought.

He could tell she agreed. Directed to lie on his back, the other Death Eater locked his wrists in the cuffs attached to the bed and a leash was clipped to the collar.

“Get as comfortable as you can,” Narcissa said. “You’ll feel the potion’s effects soon.”

“Good luck,” the other said with a hint of mirth in his voice.

They left.

Draco focused on breathing.

He supposed the waiting was the worst part. His body was starting to feel warm. Heated. His lower body, particularly was starting to react in a way it wouldn’t have otherwise.

Draco wasn’t sure if this was really would help or not.

He knew his mother meant to make it easier, but he’d rather have been knocked out cold or given a drug that would induce a hallucinogen instead of an aphrodisiac.

At least now he didn’t have to worry about being unable to perform.

Maybe.

It didn’t help his nerves.

It didn’t help that he still didn’t want to do this.

He willed himself not to cry or scream.

The doors creaked open. He heard them shut with a soft click. He dared not to look up, though he could hear the rustling of cloth. Draco closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to suppress the whimper that demanded to be heard.

He managed to swallow it as the bed dipped. Fingers curled into the waistband of the pajama trousers and they were carefully pulled off, as though this was an act of worship. Cold hands pressed against his legs, pushing them apart.

He focused on breathing instead, tried to imagine someone else. But the blunt nails dug into his skin, pulling him back from trying to find a way out of what was to come. Not that it would do well. The cold hands caressed his thighs, pushing them apart.

Draco licked his lips and turned his head, scanning for a clock. A body settled between his legs and the hands that were on his thighs now rested on his abdomen.

One of the hands worked on the buttons while the other pinched his chin, forcing him to look at Voldemort. The serpentine features leered at him. The red eyes bore into his blue. Draco dared not close his eyes as Voldemort kissed him. The hand that pinched his chin now pulled on his hair as the kiss deepened. Voldemort’s tongue slipped into Draco’s mouth.

The kiss ended and Voldemort dipped his head down, kissing and licking Draco’s torso.

The tongue was hot, like a brand. He cried out when his cock was swallowed into Voldemort’s mouth. He couldn’t hold back the tears now, biting his lip to keep from sobbing. If he was lucky, they’d be mistaken for tears of pleasure or joy.

He was twisted around to lie on his stomach. Draco hid his face in the pillow as he was prepared for the Dark Lord’s cock. Though it was just fingers right now, they were pushed in so roughly, he couldn’t help crying out and at least if he wanted to wail now he could do so and it’d be ignored.

The Dark Lord seemed intent on making him scream.

He gripped the chains, as Voldemort stretched him open and licked at his hole. At last, the pain subsided some, leaving him throbbing. The pain returned when Voldemort pushed his cock inside him.

If he wasn’t claimed before, he was now. Draco tried to scream, but his voice was caught in the back of his throat. All he could do was hope it’d end soon.

His hair was pulled again. “Scream for me, Draco. I want your screams tonight.”

So, this pain was intentional.

Draco obliged. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice. He screamed and wept as he was fucked violently. He wondered if this was what he’d be forced to endure for the rest of his life. It very well might be unless Voldemort tired of him as he had his aunt.

The cock pulled out and Draco was turned back over and violently kissed as Voldemort stroked both their cocks till Draco came, weeping.

Voldemort gripped his hips and pounded his hips against Draco’s, gasping.

At last he came.

It was over.

“Good boy,” Voldemort purred, pulling Draco into another kiss.

He wanted to kick him away to put as much distance as he could between them. He didn’t, letting Voldemort examine his work. A few charms later and he wasn’t hurting as much.

“There now, Beauty,” he said, unlocking Draco’s wrists and collar, pulling him into his embrace. “All is well, now.” He stroked Draco’s hair. “You’ll be treated well, Beauty. And when you can, you can take my mark. But for now,” he pulled Draco’s hair, forcing him to look at him. “For now, you are my pet. Maybe one day, you’ll truly be my consort if you please me.”

Draco nodded and was kissed again. Only then, was he let go. Voldemort retrieved his clothes and redressed. Once done, he tossed the pajama trousers to Draco.

“Get dressed. Sleep. I’ll be back later tonight.”

Then he left, leaving Draco to wonder what new torture awaited him that night.

He did as he was told and then grabbed the trash bin, puking again.

A hand—a woman’s hand—pressed against his back as he vomited. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “I’m here.”

“Don’t ever give me an aphrodisiac again.”

“I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“He hurt me anyway.”

“I know.”

“Mum, please. I can’t do this,” he wept. Narcissa pulled him into a hug. “I can’t do this. It hurts too much. It really hurt.”

“You have to,” she said, “He chose you. There’s nothing we can do about it, Draco.”

“There has to be,” he whimpered. “There has to be.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW : choking

Severus kept close. He had debated leaving his wand behind, but in the end, decided he might require it. He gave it to Shacklebolt in case he grew murderous. In his pocket, he carried a vial of Veritaserum to give the Dursleys.

“We can only assume that Vernon Dursley is guilty at this time,” he said. “Keep your wands down.”

He turned to the door and knocked. The door opened, revealing Petunia.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “He isn’t here.”

“He is with us,” Dumbledore said. “Might we enter, Madam?”

She stepped aside, letting them in.

“Harry revealed some disturbing information to his godfather, who then told me. Severus, the potion. Might you explain what it does?”

He removed the vial from his pocket. “Veritaserum. Truth potion. One drop is more than enough to make you spill you’re deepest, darkest secret. For an hour. More than enough potion, more than enough time.”

“We have also brought a member of our police force to oversee this,” Dumbledore said. “Now, Petunia, is your husband home?”

“What is this about? As long as he was alive and unharmed—”

“Where is your husband?” Severus snapped.

She stared at him. “In the garden out back,” she said.

Dumbledore went to retrieve him.

Severus met Petunia’s stare. “Been a while, I know. Not long enough.”

“Agreed,” she sneered. “You won’t find anything out. We did what we were told.”

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about,” Severus growled.

Her fat husband approached, sweaty face red and getting redder in fury.

“What the devil is this about?” he demanded. “Your lot is not welcome in my house!”

“We won’t be long,” Dumbledore assured him. “We just require some confirmation. Perhaps some water.”

“Lead the way, Mrs. Dursley,” Severus said, following her into the kitchen. In the living room, her husband continued to shout at them like common intruders. “Why did you marry such an ass?”

“I love him, Severus. I have a child with him. Not that you care.”

“You’re like my sister. Or at least you were. So, of course I care.”

She set the glasses down. Two were different cups. He added a little Veritaserum to them.

“What is this about? You wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t serious.”

“Serious doesn’t even begin to describe this. Horrific does.”

She furrowed her brow. “I admit we might show favoritism, but we raised him. We took care of him. He is alive. That’s all we were told to do. Keep him alive.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Severus said. He took the one of the spiked glasses. “We have to be certain.”

They returned to the living room. Petunia passed the glasses around, then took the other spiked glass from Severus. She handed the glass to Dursley as she drank her own.

“What is this?”

“Drink it before I force it down your gob,” Severus snarled.

“I would do as he says,” Shacklebolt suggested.

“What is it?”

Severus grinned. “Truth potion. Tasteless, odorless, potent.”

Dursley stilled.

“Drink up.”

“I refuse.”

“Why?” Shacklebolt asked. “Your wife assured us there is nothing you’re hiding. Is that not true?”

He looked between them, weighing his chances. He stared at the glass.

“Mine had the potion, too, Vernon,” she said. “Just drink it, answer a couple questions, and then they will leave.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Take the potion and you’ll find out,” Severus said, crossing his arms.

Dursley turned to his wife. “You drank it?” he asked.

“It’ll be over soon enough. And if he brewed it,” she motioned to Severus, “then there’s nothing to worry about, Darling. It’s not poison.”

Looking around once more, he raised the glass up to his lips, then dropped it, running for the back door.

“Well, that doesn’t make it any less suspicious,” Severus said, taking his wand back from Shacklebolt. They chased him down and Severus cast a quick Stunning spell, hitting him in the back before he could get to his car.

He levitated Dursley back inside the house and set him in an armchair. Severus spilled a bit of the potion into Dursley’s mouth, half listening to Petunia try to reassure Dumbledore that she didn’t know why her husband ran from them.

“Kingsley, Severus,” Dumbledore said, “If one of you could revive him, I think we are ready to continue.”

Severus cast one last spell—a body bind—to ensure he didn’t run again.

“Smart,” Kingsley said.

“Thanks,” Severus said, smirking. “ _Enervate_ ,” he said.

Dursley jerked awake, looking around and testing the bonds. “Untie me at once!” he demanded. “I want you out of my house! I am calling the police!”

“I am the police,” Shacklebolt muttered.

Severus shrugged as Dumbledore stepped forward.

“Mr. Dursley,” he began. “Harry revealed a disturbing situation. He told his godfather that he’d been sexually abused.”

“I never touched the little slut,” Dursley snapped.

“Then why would he say that?” Shacklebolt asked. “Why would he accuse you?”

“He wasn’t supposed to say a bloody word!” Dursley shouted.

Severus glanced at Petunia.

She was frozen.

“We had an agreement: he let some bastards fuck him and he’d get a percentage of the quid made. I had ground rules for his clients. They aren’t supposed to hurt him. Never needed to take him to the hospital for any issues because of that.”

Petunia shrieked. “You _prostituted_ my nephew?!” she screamed. “You let pedophiles into our house?! Near our family?!”

“Petunia—”

“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!!”

She lunged at him. Severus caught her around the waist before she could curl her thin fingers around his neck or scratch his eyes out.

“I’LL FUCKING RIP YOU APART!!! FUCKING ARSEHOLE!!!”

Severus pulled her away from Dursley and into another room.

“LET ME GO!!! SEVERUS, LET ME GO!!!” she became dead weight in his arms as he fury shifted to distress. She wailed, clinging to him as she sobbed. “Severus, he…”

“I know,” he said, rocking her. “I know.”

“What about Dudley?” she wept. “What about my baby? What did he do to my baby?”

Severus whispered assurances that they’d find out for her.

“It’d be best if you don’t go into the living room,” he said. “We’ll handle it from here, Tuney.” He let her go and returned.

Dumbledore and Shacklebolt turned to him.

“She wants to know if he allowed anything to be done to their child,” he said numbly.

Dumbledore turned to Dursley. “Did you?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll stay with her for now,” Severus said, moving back to the kitchen. Once assuring her that Dudley was never harmed, her weeping renewed. Severus fetched a fresh glass of water for her.

“I’m afraid my job would not allow me to host you and Dudley, but there’s plenty of room at Harry’s godfather’s. I’m sure Dumbledore will allow that.”

Petunia shook her head. “I never liked him, but I never would have allowed this to happen.  He’s too much like Lily, Severus. In so many ways, he’s too much like my sister and now it’s too late to fix…”

Severus handed the glass to her. “Have some water, Petunia,” he said. “We can’t fix it, but we can help him heal.”

“If not for that potion, I’d never believe it,” she said.

She took the glass in a shaking hand. She set it down on the ground. Severus summoned his patronus and sent it on its way to Grimauld Place with his request to house Petunia and Dudley.

“Severus, what do I do? What if Harry never forgives me—”

“Hey, now,” he said, embracing her again. “That kid has been known to be kind. He really is a lot like Lily, so I do believe that he will forgive you. You’re not responsible for what happened to him because of your husband.”

“Oh my God,” she wailed. “My God!”

Severus let her wail, rocking her as she wept. He could hear shouting from the living room as though Vernon was attempting to get out of being arrested while more people arrived—aurors, Severus supposed.

A new patronus arrived and Molly’s voice echoed back:

“Sirius will not take them in,” she said. “Bring Harry’s aunt and cousin to the Burrow, instead. We’ll see you soon.”

The patronus’ light died.

Severus stood, helping Petunia off the floor.

“Is there anything you want to get before we retrieve your son?”

She swallowed and nodded. He let go and once certain she wasn’t going to collapse, checked the living room.

“How is she?” Dumbledore asked.

“She’s calmed a bit. The Weasleys are going to take her and her son into their home for the meantime.”

“Sirius surely has more room.”

“Yes, but apparently, he won’t take them in. Perhaps he worries about their presence near the boy…I’d have to ask him. However, she wants to get some things before we head out. I don’t think she should see…this.”

He motioned toward the aurors pulling Dursley up out of the chair and locking his wrists behind his back.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. He flicked his wand and a curtain appeared, hovering from the hall of the kitchen to the staircase.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Have you a portkey?”

“Not yet, but I can manage it well enough.”

“All right,” Albus said. “Be careful, Severus. And be quick. There will be an emergency meeting at Grimauld Place after we’re done.”

“Understood, Sir,” Severus said, making his way back to the kitchen. “It’s safe to come out,” he told Petunia. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” she said, seeming to have numbed.

He pushed against the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“Dumbledore!”

“They’re leaving right now,” he said. “Just wait a moment”

“The point of the curtain you conjured was so we wouldn’t _have_ to,” he grumbled.

Even so, he waited for the charm on the door to lift. He glowered at Dumbledore.

“Well?”

“He’s on his way to Azkaban.”

Severus grinned. “Excellent.”

Azkaban would definitely be the best place to put someone like Dursley.

“Well, Petunia’s going to get some things packed and then she and I will fetch her son, and head to the Burrow.”

“In that case, I will see you tonight, Severus,” Dumbledore said.

He turned to Petunia.

“I am sorry for all of this, Madam.”

“Just go,” she said, too tired to snap. “Just go.”

#

They sat in Harry’s bedroom, books splayed over the floor and inkwells and quills floating off the floor, charmed not to spill as they studied.

Harry glanced at them.

Hermione smiled as if nothing had changed, but Ron couldn’t look him in the eye.

If not for Ron being painfully obvious, Harry would be certain neither of them knew. It wasn’t Ron’ fault. He was just a bad actor.

Still, Harry had to know for sure.

“Do you know?”

Hermione and Ron turned to him. Ron’s ears were pink, and Hermione nibbled her lower lip.

“If you do, that’s okay.”

“We didn’t mean to keep it secret from you, Hermione said. “You have been a bit more explosive, lately. And Sirius asked us not to say anything.”

He glanced back at his book. “Does it bother you?”

“What’choo mean?” Ron asked.

“It doesn’t bother us,” Hermione took one of his hands in hers. “We’re your friends. We might not know what to say right now to make you feel better, Harry, but we love you and we’ll be here for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Harry stared at her hand on top of his own. He glanced at them.

“I knew what they did was wrong. And I know I was too young to really understand when it started or why. And when I was older, I let it continue. I just…I didn’t care, I guess.”

He blinked, blinking rapidly as his eyes stung. Even so, his vision blurred.

Hermione embraced him.

“It’s okay now,” she said. “No one will do that to you ever again. We won’t let it. No one in the Order will let it.”

He removed his glasses, setting them on his Transfiguration text book – he couldn’t see anyway. Why make it harder once the tears ebbed?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he said. “I thought I had numbed to it.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione assured him. “Let it out. We’re here. We know now, so we can help you heal, Harry. That’s all we want to do.”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ron said.

Harry hiccupped, hiding his face in the crook of her shoulder.

Ron cleared his throat. “You want some tea?”

Harry managed a weak chuckle that morphed into a ragged cough.

“I think water would be better,” Hermione suggested.

“Be right back.”

With Ron gone, the awkwardness wasn’t as potent. Harry sniffed.

“I think I just…I wanted to lessen the other abuse I went through, you know? I just thought letting them…you know…I thought it would do that.”

Hermione hushed him. He could feel her own tears wet his face. She kissed the top of his head. “This doesn’t change anything. You’re our best friend. Understood? You’re still the strongest and bravest wizard I have ever met.”

She picked up her wand and conjured a box of tissues just as Ron returned, setting down two glasses of water in front of them. He returned to his place on the floor, silent and uncomfortable.

Hermione giggled a bit. “You look so red.”

“Well, you know me: I’m pants at this sort of thing.”

Harry managed a small laugh of his own at that. “Yeah,” he said. “You really are, Ron.”

“Well, as long as you two are smiling again.”

#

He couldn’t stop shaking.

Even as he relaxed, focusing on his breathing, he couldn’t stop the shivers raking his body. Draco tried not to wince at Voldemort’s touch, but he couldn’t stop shaking.

At least when he was on his stomach, he could muffle his weeping and they might be mistaken for moans.

It’d been nearly two weeks since he’d become the Dark Lord’s consort.

No.

 _Whore_.

He was his whore. His slave and bedwarmer. Nothing more than that.

What else could he be when he was fucked so violently that even healing charms, potions, and salves didn’t seem to work anymore?

Every time he moved, his body ached, even when healed, as though there was a pain that he could not find, and therefore could not cure.

He pushed the word down and the pain of being entered aided in fighting the thought.

 _I am **not** a whore_ , he reminded himself. _I do not want this. I hate this. I don’t want this. I am doing this because I don’t have a choice. I don’t want this. This doesn’t make me a whore. Or a slag. Or a slut. I don’t want this. Gods, please, I don’t want this._

He whimpered when Voldemort bit down on the junction connecting neck to shoulder. He refused to scream, nearly biting his lip all the way through.

He could taste the iron of his blood as it filled his mouth from biting his lip. He dared not release his lip even when Voldemort loosened his own jaw and licked at the bite mark.

His hair was yanked, forcing him to let go of his lip from between his lip and the brutal, bloody kiss made him ill.

_I can’t do keep doing this._

He wanted to bite Voldemort’s tongue, anything to get him off, but the fear that it would only make this torture worse kept him from doing so.

_I’m leaving. First chance I get, I’m leaving. I’ll run. I’ll go where they can’t find me –_

“You’re a silly boy, my Beauty,” Voldemort purred.

He pulled his weight off Draco, shifting to turn him over onto his back before resuming. He gripped Draco’s throat, nearly cutting off all airflow.

“You can try, if you like, but I will _always_ find you. You belong to me, Draco, and you always will.”

Draco clawed at the hand around his neck, trying to pry it off.

“Say it: ‘I belong to you.’”

“ _Please_ ,” he gasped. “ _Let me go_.”

“Say. It.”

“ _I belong to you_.”

The hand did not loosen.

“ _I belong to you. I belong to you. I BELONG TO YOU!!_ ”

Everything goes black…

He woke alone and healed of bruises and cuts.

Again.

He winced when he moved to get out of bed. It still hurt. He hid his face in the pillow and wept. His throat hurt, as well, and he was half certain that if he were to look in the mirror, he’d see a hand sized bruise around it.

Draco forced himself to move. To bathe. To regain any sense of normalcy he could.

Once in the bathroom, he glanced at his reflection and instantly regretted it.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to look at the mirror.

There was no bruise on his neck. Or any physical indication that he was in pain. Even his lip had been healed, pale pink rather than bruised dark red.

It was all in the eyes.

They didn’t use to look so hooded and lackluster. He didn’t used to have dark circles under them from lack of sleep. He didn’t used to look so shrunken and small.

He could see more than feel the rage take over when he smashed the mirror and cut his hand. He barely felt the pain of it till it had already been done.

“Draco!”

Narcissa pulled him away from the shards, waving her wand to fix the mirror and then examined his hand, healing that as well. She wept and kissed his hand.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mum,” he mumbled. “Sorry about the mirror.”

She hushed him, pulling him into her arms and rocked him. The image of his favorite teacher came to mind. He wasn’t even trying to think, and still…

“Can I go visit Severus?”

Narcissa let him go. “Of course, Honey. You can visit him as long as you’re…home…on time.”

Right.

Wouldn’t want to deny the Dark Lord his _play thing_.

His _whore_.

She left, allowing him to wash. He scrubbed his body till it was pink from both heat and soap.

Once as clean – purified – as he could make himself, he dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He hadn’t the will to dress in a way more suited to his status and he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

Even as he pulled on a pair of trainers, he only did so mechanically.

And at breakfast, even though he was dressed more like a muggle than usual, he could still feel the eyes of every death eater in the room staring at him.

Judging him.

Or violating him with their eyes, as if they knew what happened in the room that had once been his sanctuary.

He tensed at a press of lips to the top of his head, gripping his fork in a death grip.

“Good morning, Draco,” Voldemort said.

Draco swallowed and looked at him.

He hated those red eyes staring into him, a though they could read his mind and strip him bare for all to see how weak and pathetic he felt beneath them.

He had to let go of his fork and relax, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was embed the prongs into one of those unnatural eyes.

“Good morning, my lord,” he replied, enduring the kiss pressed to his mouth. And the hand that ran through his hair as he ate while the others bade Voldemort a good morning as well.

His food, though it was his favorite morning meal, tasted like ash.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco entered Spinner’s End from the fireplace in Severus’ sitting room.

Dusting ash off his clothes, he went in search of Severus.

He found him with his head on the table, a cup of cooled tea a few inches away from his head. Draco knocked on the wall.

Severus snorted, waking. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at Draco for a brief moment.

“Oh.”

“Rough night?” Draco asked.

“Like never before,” Severus growled.

He was also unshaven, Draco guessed, given the hint of shadow over his face.

“But a bit of coffee,” he reached for the cup and wrinkled his nose. “Fresh coffee, that is, and I might be able to function. Want a cup?”

“No thanks,” Draco said. “I, um, I need advice, actually.”

Severus grumbled questioningly, encouraging Draco to continue.

“Well, you know that I’m the Dark Lord’s consort—”

Severus spun around. “What?” he snarled.

Draco blinked.

“I thought everyone was there that night. The Dark Lord chose me to be his consort. Well, consort isn’t really the right word, but…”

Severus motioned for him to sit at the table.

“Start from the beginning. What happened two weeks ago?”

Draco recounted his induction ceremony.

Severus joined him at the table, massaging his forehead as he listened.

“Is this consensual?” he asked.

“No, but what options do I have? I thought about running away, but…but he seemed to know I was thinking that. Told me it’d be pointless. That’d he’d always find me. I never wanted to do this, but I don’t have a choice. At least, I feel like I don’t. I just don’t know what to do and I don’t know who to turn to.”

Severus sighed. “I wish I could say I did have an answer. As it is, Draco, I’m going to alert the Headmaster. I know you think he can’t help, but I assure you, he will know what to do.”

“You weren’t there?” Draco asked.

“Draco, I didn’t even know he was going to do this to you. I don’t know why you’re parents felt they couldn’t do anything about it, but no child should go through what you are going through right now. I would do anything to protect my students.”

He stood.

“Come on now,” Severus said. “We best go to the Headmaster and figure out what we can do.”

Coffee forgotten, Severus took Draco’s arm and they apparated.

They stood outside a row of townhouses. He looked around, wondering if this grungy looking place was truly where the Headmaster lived. Severus lead him toward one of the walls between # 11 and #13.

He tapped his wand against it and the wall began to elongate, pushing the street aside as it formed a new house marked #12.

Draco followed Severus inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Haha!” a female voice shouted. “JENGA TOWER!”

“BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS IN MY ANCESTRAL HOME!!!”

“Just ‘Jenga,’ Tonks.”

Draco froze, recognizing the third voice as Hermione Granger’s, ignoring the shrieks of the second – seeming to come from a portrait.

Severus waved his wand at the frame, shutting the curtains over it.

Draco kept close, glancing briefly in a sitting room where Granger, Weaslette, and an older woman with bright pink hair were rebuilding a tower out of wooden blocks.

They didn’t see him, for which he was thankful, and kept just inches away from Severus as they entered a kitchen.

Lupin sat the table there, drinking tea, while Sirius Black read the paper.

Draco swiftly turned his head, looking from Black to Severus, confused and a bit frightened.

“Where is Dumbledore?” he asked.

“Library,” Black said, without looking up.

“Come on,” Severus steered Draco out of the kitchen and up a staircase.

“You know Sirius Black?!”

“We were in the same year at school,” he said. “And he’s _not_ a death eater, nor a murderer. Not that he isn’t capable of it. Even so, he’s safer than most of the wizards and witches you know that never did a stint in Azkaban. Here we are.”

Severus knocked, waiting for Dumbledore to admit them.

Once given permission to intrude, Draco followed Severus inside. Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose when he spied Draco with Severus. Severus squeezed Draco’s shoulder, perhaps trying to be reassuring.

“Just tell him what you told me,” he instructed.

Draco didn’t like the idea of having to relive it again, but obeyed, unable to watch the change in the Headmaster’s eyes.

Once he’d finished again, he was staring at his feet, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Draco,” Dumbledore said. “Thank you for telling us. I’m going to have a talk with Severus so we can figure out the best way to help you get away from Voldemort. If you could step outside for a moment. We’ll call you back in when we have a solution.”

He left the library, shutting the door behind him.

“Malfoy?” Draco turned around, groaning.

Of all the people he had hoped to avoid, Potter was at the top of that list.

“What are you doing here?”

“None of your business, Potter.”

“Actually, it’s my godfather’s house, so in a way, it is my business.”

Draco turned to him, snarling. Then he sighed.

“I don’t want to talk about it, all right? I’m not going to be here long, I’m sure, so just relax and do whatever it is you do when you’re not at school.”

He leaned against the door and slid to the ground.

“Just leave me alone.”

Potter didn’t move at first, staring at him a little longer. “Are you all right? You look…tired.”

“Yeah, lack of sleep will do that.”

The door opened and Draco nearly fell over. Severus arched a brow.

“Get in here. Potter, scram.”

Draco scurried into the room and the door was shut in Harry’s face before he could move. Draco half expected that Potter would stay where he was and listen behind the door.

Certainly would be his style, bloody nuisance.

“Draco, Professor Snape is going to teach you Occlumency. It’s an advanced type of magic that we believe will be able to sever the link Voldemort appears to have made to you. He won’t be able to read your mind anymore once you’ve mastered it. For the pain you might be going through, Severus agreed to brew you some new potions. That should take care of anything that still hurts. While this happens, we’ll be working on a more permanent solution to get you away from him.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have a better solution right now, but we will figure something out as fast as we can,” Severus promised.

“I’ll let you get started,” Dumbledore said, standing. “I’ll alert the Order that Draco is also under our protection now, as well.”

With that, he left.

Severus turned to Draco.

“We’ll take it carefully,” he said. “As it is imperative you master this magic.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Severus waved his wand, conjuring large pillows.

“Take a seat.”

#

Harry backed away when the door opened and Dumbledore walked out.

They stared at each other.

“Were you eavesdropping, Harry?”

“Erm…”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Harry, I must implore you to keep whatever you’ve heard to yourself. And do work on your spying problem. It isn’t doing you any favors, isn’t it?”

“I suppose not. Sorry, sir. I was just wondering why Malfoy was here.”

“If Mr. Malfoy decides to confide in you, then you might find out what brought him to the Order. But for now, that information is his to disclose if he so wishes.”

He began his descent down the stairs.

Harry followed. “But the rest of the Order will find out what it is. Just like how they found out about my uncle. Maybe I could help –”

“Harry, there is nothing you can do right now to make any of it better. Except, maybe, be his friend. He might need that, if nothing else. Now, I think we could do with some tea.”

Harry mumbled an affirmative, though his curiosity gnawed at him.

What happened that would make Draco Malfoy switch to their side?

#

He walked down the hall.

His body hummed with excitement as he neared the room where his beautiful consort waited.

The door creaked as it opened and clicked shut behind him as he approached the form in the bed.

Silver hair glimmered in the moonlight seeping into the room.

His skin was just as pale and fair.

Smooth to the touch, but soft and warm – so unlike porcelain. And the eyes are clear as clean cut sapphire.

He pulled the covers off, pleased to find his consort had decided to forgo any sort of covering.

The bed dipped under his weight as he joined his consort, sliding his hand between slender legs, nudging them apart.

His consort shut his eyes as he repositioned him so that his knees pressed against his shoulders.

He muttered a cleansing spell, relishing the whimper that escaped his consort’s throat as he leaned down to bite and lick the skin, digging his nails into the pale flesh.

His consort whimpered again, sending shivers down his spine. He rose and kissed him, running his hand through the silver hair.

He gripped the tresses, yanking.

His consort hissed as he pushed him into a different position so that his cock was pressed against his face.

“Suck,” he said.

Obediently, the boy opened his mouth and took his cock in his mouth.

His mouth was warm.

Enticing.

Electrifying.

He hissed, rolling his hips, gradually fucking his consort’s fair mouth.

He yanked his hair before it grew too much and switched his position again, pushing his slick cock into his consort’s ass. The boy whimpered more, biting the pillow as he pounded deeper into him.

“Fuck,” he growled, tugging his consort’s cock.

He pulled out and molded the boy to a suited position allowing him to pound deeper into him.

“Look at me, my Beauty.”

Blood dripped down his lover’s chin, mixing with beautiful tears. He’d bitten his lip nearly through again.

It never ceased to arouse him.

Seeing him in pain.

He was so pretty when he cried.

So sexy when he wept…

Harry bolted upright, shaking.

_What the fuck was that?!_

He got out of bed, feeling his hard cock press against his bed clothes.

He groaned, sitting on the side of his bed, willing his body to calm down.

He wasn’t going to fucking _jack_ to Malfoy being abused and raped by Voldemort!

What would that make him?

He didn’t want to…

He didn’t…

He…

Harry went to take a cold shower.

Should help.

So he hoped.

He shivered under the cold water, but it did the trick. Calmed and shivering from something other than fear. Harry sighed, afraid what would happen if he closed his eyes.

The couple times he did, he felt more like himself, recognizing Draco’s fear and pain in the dream.

Nightmare?

Harry shut the water off and dried off, deciding to find a book to distract him instead.

Still, he had to wonder how he was going to face Malfoy when school started again, or if they ran into each other sooner…

Either way, he kept reminding himself that it was just a dream.

It had to be just a dream.

Wasn’t it?

#

At last, it was over.

Voldemort slid out of him. After another healing charm ridding him of the markings that were printed onto his skin, Voldemort kissed the back of his head.

“Goodnight, Beauty.”

Draco held his breath until certain that he was alone.

Once he was, he jumped out of bed and reached for the trash can, vomiting again. He cleared the contents and grabbed some trousers to pull on as he hobbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He didn’t look at his reflection too much. It wasn’t someone he recognized anyway.

The rest of the night, he couldn’t sleep, but there was one thing he had to find out. One question he needed to ask, though he felt he knew – and feared – the answer.

He barely slept the rest of the night, opting to read instead.

He started from the very beginning of _The Tales of Beadle the Bard_ and by the time the sun began to creep over the mountains and light the sky, he was over three-quarters through the book of fairy tales.

Draco’s eyelids were heavy as he struggled to keep them open.

“Master Draco?”

He glanced at one of the elves.

“Is Master Draco feeling okay?”

“Erm…I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’ll be okay. Just…actually, I’ll have breakfast here, in my room.” He said. “I don’t want to be…I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

The elf bowed and apparated away.

Once again alone, Draco turned back to the book.

His vision blurred, impeding his ability to read.

He shut the book and sighed, deciding to try and sleep anyway. Draco paused, staring at his bed. Healed or not, the blood staining the bed (as it had not been stripped away for it’s now daily cleaning yet) drew him.

Draco’s stomach flipped.

He set the book down and raced to the bathroom, locking himself in as panic roiled through him.

His mind was foggy.

His hands were sweating.

His heart was racing.

He could barely breathe.

He dared not move, even when he heard the elves in his room, cleaning up. He could hear the ruffle of bed sheets – and the sniffling – on the other side of the door.

“Draco?” Narcissa called, knocking on the door. “Honey, can I come in?”

“No,” he shouted more harshly than he intended. He winced. “No,” he said more softly. “I’m okay.” _Liar._ He didn’t need his own mind judging him for not wanting to face his mother.

“I was told you didn’t sleep last night.”

“Yeah. It was too hot,” he lied. Again. “I’ll be okay, Mum. Really, I will.”

Silence. As though she knew he was lying for her benefit. “Well, there’s some breakfast on your desk. Eat what you can and then get some sleep. Whatever you can, get. The elves are fixing your bed right now.”

He knew.

“Okay,” he called. “Thanks, mum.”

“Draco, sweetheart,” Narcissa said. “I’ll try to convince the Dark Lord to give you tonight night off so you can sleep.” That helped his panic a little, even if he couldn’t say she’d be successful.

“Can…can you also find out about how this will work when I’m at school?”

“Of course, Sweetie.”

Once alone again, he looked out, peeking into his room. No one was there. Not his mother. Not his father, or any death eater. No elves.

Not even _him_.

His bed was clean, the sheets clean and white. Even a new duvet.

A plate of cereal and toast with a pitcher of milk awaited him. He decided to send thanks to the elves for their foresight.

Or perhaps his mother guessed he wouldn’t want something too flavorful.

He ate the toast, cast a charm on the milk to keep it fresh, and climbed into the clean bed. It smelt of summer. Not blood, not sweat. Fresh grass and summer flowers.

Like Narcissa.

It gave him a little comfort. Enough, at least, to sleep…

#

Harry carried three butterbeers to their table, careful not to drop them even with Sirius wandering about, sniffing everything in sight.

“Snuffles, if you don’t stop I’ll trip,” he snapped at him.

Sirius gave him the canine equivalent of a deadpanned look then went back to sniffing around the Leaky Cauldron and gaining pats and scratches where he could, staying clear of Harry’s legs until he had set the drinks down on the table he shared with Ron and Hermione.

He had debated telling them the dream, and had told Sirius first, who advised that it might be best not to worry them more than necessary.

“After all,” he had said handing Harry a collar and a lead with some hesitance. “It’s just a dream.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry said.

With that, Sirius transformed and let Harry put on the collar and hook the lead to the metal ring.

Sirius had been a dog since, wanting to stay by him while they did their school shopping, dutifully staying close and the epitome of a well trained pet dog as they went from store to store for new supplies.

Now that Harry had taken his seat for lunch, Sirius sat by his feet, letting Hermione scratch his head as they enjoyed their post meal drinks.

He even poked his head out to rest on her lap looking quite content as she got behind his ears. They debated who the new defense teacher would be.

Someone worthy and experienced to teach the class?

Or would they have another teacher who would hurt their chances again.

“With You-Know-Who back, you’d think Dumbledore would be able to find a decent teacher,” Hermione said. Harry agreed and hoped she was right.

But what if she wasn’t and Dumbledore wasn’t able to get them a good teacher?

What would they do?

Aside from the practicality of knowing Defense, this was their O.W.L.s year.

They needed a decent teacher in order to pass their tests at least.

Harry pointed all this out, wishing that Hermione hadn’t brought up OWLs in the conversation. All that did was depress both him and Ron. Sirius licked his hand, as though trying to assure him he’d be okay.

“Ew, Snuffles,” Harry groaned, wiping his slobbered hand on his trousers. Sirius gave him an innocent look, wagging his tail.

Harry spied a hint of white in the dim light of the pub only to avert his gaze again, face warm as Malfoy entered with his mother.

 _Please let it be a nightmare_ , he thought, trying to ignore the way he had looked in the dream. _Please let that just be a nightmare._

“You okay, Harry?” Ron asked. He glanced at his friends.

Shit.

They must have caught him turning from Malfoy too fast.

“Yeah. Just don’t want to be spotted by Malfoy,” he lied. They hummed, accepting it.

After all, why would he be embarrassed to see Malfoy?

Sirius, though, stared at Harry, brown puppy eyes conveying his concern. He whined and Harry scratched the top of his head, hoping it’d be enough to convince him that he was okay.

Though, if he was ever to admit it, Harry felt far more disturbed by the dream than he let on.

Harry excused himself to the loo and nearly bumped into Malfoy as he came out.

“Potter,” Malfoy sneered.

He tried to hide it, but his eyes were sunken and bore dark circles underneath. His “greeting” lacked its usual bite. Even his skin wasn’t right – far too sallow than the healthier snowy white.

“Am I allowed to leave or do you expect us to bow to you first?”

Harry stepped out of his way. “Sorry.”

Malfoy arched a brow at him, but strode by him.

Harry entered, hating how his hands shook.

_Please, please, please let it just be a horrible nightmare._


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione all but dropped her books in front of Harry and Ron. The two of them scooted backwards, eyes wide.

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron said, staring at the stack. “Are you planning a murder?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Hermione teased, sitting down. “But you can rest easy, Ron. This is some extra books I found that might help us prepare for OWLs.”

Ron groaned. Harry sighed. “I think that we’d rather be murdered,” Ron said.

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been chased up, down, left, right, and sideways by Voldemort enough times that I’d really like to avoid being murdered. Hell, half the time I wonder if I should just bugger all this shit and pray that I die in a way that is completely unexpected. And no, getting eaten by a dragon is in the realm of possibility. Has been since last year and I will not discredit that it could happen.”

“Then what would count as unexpected?” Hermione asked.

“Of my old age in my sleep,” Harry said, grinning at her.

“Damn, Harry, it’s sad that you’d consider that unexpected,” Ron said.

“Yet, not that surprising,” Hermione said. “I half expect your life to end up like _Second Hand Lions_.”* They gave her confused looks, so she shook her head with a deep sigh and sat down. “Really, you two. The outcome of our OWLs could affect our future prospective careers. I would happen to do well enough to have more than my pick of the top career options and apprenticeships.”

“That may be all well and good for you, Mi, but I’ll be good with whatever I get,” Ron said. Hermione shook her head at him. “Harry?”

“I _might_ consider going into the DMLE as an Auror,” he admitted, “But really, I don’t know if I can what with…what I was…”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “I doubt that anyone would hold that against you. It doesn’t make you any less as a person. You know that, don’t you?”

“Know? Yes. Feeling it, though…”

Ron cleared his throat, ears red, and opted to see when lunch would be ready. Hermione took his hand in her own and squeezed it gently. “I can’t help how you feel about what your uncle did to you, Harry, but I’m here if you want to talk. Or not. Or Sirius. He’s been helping you through it, too, hasn’t he?”

Harry shrugged. “In a way, I think. He’s not as bad as Ron, but still a bit…uncomfortable.”

“I think a lot of us are. I can’t say I am, entirely. I know you’re still you, but the thought of you going through all that you have…well…Sirius probably thinks he failed you. A lot of them probably think that they failed you, even though…well…how could they stop something they didn’t know about until recently? And you didn’t even intend to tell anyone, right?”

Harry nodded. He hadn’t. It just came out and now that it was out…he didn’t know what to expect from anyone. They said it didn’t change the way they saw him, but even so, he felt something had changed among them all.

Sirius was more attentive and yet also far more cautious than he was before. He could barely walk into any room Molly was in without risking her crying. Remus was careful not to get too close. The Aurors among the Order were even more cautious around him. Arthur – and several others – couldn’t look him in the eye as they used to.

And then there was Snape. He’d only been around a few times more, but he seemed angrier whenever he looked at Harry. Knowing him, Snape was likely disgusted at him. Just add whore to the whole sodding list of things he hated about Harry.

“Well, I guess I’ll resign myself to your tutelage, Professor Granger.”

“I’m not planning on being a teacher.”

“Then what _do_ you want to do?”

“I’m as undecided as Ron,” she admitted, “But I refuse to throw away any chances I might have just because I don’t know what I’m doing with my future yet.”

Harry nodded. “In that case, can we at least hold off until _after_ lunch?” Hermione hummed, then nodded. “Great.”

He followed her downstairs and to the kitchen. He sent Molly a reassuring smile, which she returned. After a brief conversation of what the three of them would do next – with Ron complaining that Harry has betrayed him to join Hermione’s study team – Molly let them eat in peace to check on who had come through the Floo.

Harry recognized Dumbledore’s voice replying to her as they ate. Molly peered into the kitchen.

“Harry, dear,” she said. “Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you once you’ve finished.” He swallowed and thanked her. Once she was gone, Ron leaned forward.

“You cannot abandon me to Hermione’s wrath.”

“I can, actually,” Harry said, grinning. “And I will. Don’t worry. It won’t be for long.”

“It better not,” Ron muttered, tearing a large chunk of his sandwich. Large enough that it was hard to chew with his mouth closed. Hermione groaned, disgusted, but Harry ignored him, downed his butterbeer, and went to the sitting room.

Dumbledore offered him a small smile and invited him to sit down. Harry did so. From there, he told Harry about his uncle’s arrest a few days ago. “Your aunt and cousin have been relocated to a secure location,” he continued. “Your living situation will be reevaluated in the meantime but given that your aunt was unaware of what your uncle had done, I feel it will be safe for you to return into her care next summer, but we’ll be keeping a closer eye than before if that is indeed the course decided on.”

Harry nodded. He supposed if Vernon wasn’t there…

He’d rather never return to Petunia’s care even without risk of being prostituted. And as he explained that, Dumbledore listened, humming. “It will certainly be taken in account,” he promised. “But there is time until that decision is made.”

Harry sighed. It would have to do. “Okay.”

Dumbledore nodded, offering a wrapped yellow candy. Harry waved it off. Dumbledore unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. “Well, there is one other thing I wanted to discuss, Harry. Professor Snape will be offering a sort of private class. You and one other student.”

“Erm…why me? Snape doesn’t like me. And I can’t say I like him any better.”

“ _Professor_ Snape happens to care for his students more than he lets on.” Harry scoffed. “This class will be difficult, but you and this other student require this type of training and he is quite skilled in it. It is, in a sense, a defensive magic class.”

“But, even so, he _hates_ me.”

Dumbledore sighed, sadness dulling his eyes. “Harry, Professor Snape is a hard man and he has his reasons, but I assure you: he has _never_ hated you. Even if he thinks he does, it would be impossible for him. Perhaps if you accept to take this class with him and his other student, you may come to know that he is far more complex than you think. Besides, you may benefit more from what he has to teach you than you think you do.”

Harry huffed, leaning back. “Who’s the other student?”

“Draco Malfoy.” Harry felt like ice. He supposed that he looked it, too, as Dumbledore said: “I know you and Mr. Malfoy have a bit of a rivalry, but I assure you all this is necessary.”

“So, I guess that’s a fancy way of saying that I need to take these lessons even though I really don’t want to?” Harry asked, scowling at Dumbledore. “Professor, please, I _don’t_ want to do this.”

“I’m afraid you must, Harry,” he said. “If it were possible, I would teach you myself, but as it is, this year…it will be a bit more complicated than before.”

“How so?”

“I wish I was at liberty to say,” he said. “As it is, at this time, I am not.” Dumbledore stood. “I am sorry that you do not feel comfortable with this arrangement, Harry, but I hope that perhaps you’ll see Professor Snape differently, then.”

Harry doubted he would.

#

September first couldn’t come fast enough, Draco decided. He pushed the thought down, dunking his head into the shower stream. He blinked, wishing he could stop shaking so much. A knock at the door told him that he’d spent too much time avoiding the inevitable.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” he shouted, shutting the water off. He tried to keep from crying, though his eyes stung madly with the need to weep born out of his fear for what was about to happen.

Draco focused on breathing instead, as much as he could. He went to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, wondering if locking it would do any good.

Unlikely.

In the end, he decided to get it over with and stripped the bath robe off. He laid down on top of the duvet, hugging his pillow and trying to relax as much as his body and mind would allow.

He tensed when the door clicked open. His breath quickened and he bit the pillow, trying to slacken his muscles as much as he could, but the cold touch along his thigh didn’t help. Less so when it caressed his ass, fingers sliding between the crack.

_Please don’t…_

The thought came unbidden and he whimpered as three fingers jabbed inside his hole. It hurt, unlubricated as it was, but they slid inside easy enough without. Those fingers pushed and pressed, thrusting in search for his prostate.

The bed dipped as Voldemort settled behind him. Draco bit into the pillow harder as Voldemort’s other hand pushed his hips up into the air. Draco fisted at the sheets, nails ripping into the fabric. He felt a tongue press against his shoulder blade. The fingers left, and a lubrication charm that _stung_ was cast. Draco bit into the pillow harder so to muffle the scream emanating from his throat as Voldemort penetrated him…

#

Harry woke, choking back a scream.

Maybe there was a reason behind the classes Dumbledore wanted him to take with Snape and Malfoy, but he didn’t know how he was going to even look at Malfoy normally anymore with these dreams tormenting him.

He stood, trembling, and went to get a cup of tea. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused, listening:

“…Malfoy is one thing. Teaching Potter is another. He refuses to listen to me.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to reevaluate how you’re going about teaching him,” Sirius replied. “Moony hadn’t any issues with Harry when he was a teacher.”

“Because Lupin was good at this. Potter adored him and so Lupin had an easier time getting through to him. One slip and I could get myself and both boys killed.”

“And that’s the only reason you’re such a hard ass, Snape?” Harry tiptoed closer. “What if you let go of all that shit about his dad and let him know about Lily? I know if things had gone differently…”

“Do not bring her into this. I don’t want to remember, Black. If I remember that she is his mother, I feel worse. I can’t let him close, so I have to see him as Potter’s brat instead of recognize how much like her he really is.”

Sirius hummed. “He is a lot more like her than he knows, isn’t he?”

“Far more than he can ever know. He can’t know, Black. Ever. He isn’t ready and even if he were, I know for a _fact_ I am not.”

Harry felt his heart pound in his ears, throat closing.

“Does he not deserve to know about her, too?”

“It’s not a question of deserving,” Snape said. “Of course, he _deserves_ to know, but with…with what I am, he probably won’t understand how she could ever be my friend. I’ve worked too hard to maintain a certain image. Potter won’t believe it.”

“He didn’t have any reason to believe me two years ago. No one did. But he did anyway. Once he knew the truth, saw for himself, he believed me. He forgave me, even though I had done nothing to him that needed forgiveness. He’s a good kid. Better than either of us ever were, and I think if he knew why you were so hard on him, he might understand a little more. He might respect you a little more.”

For a long moment, there was silence save for glasses clinking.

“It doesn’t matter if he understands my reasons,” Snape continued. “Nor does it matter if he respects me at all. My job is to protect him. I don’t have to be liked or respected to do that.”

“No, but it certainly might make it easier,” Sirius replied. “At least try. If you’re going to be teaching him and Draco Occlumency, it might help if he knows a little bit…maybe I could help explain things myself. Clarify a bit here and there. The image he has of his parents is akin to godlike. He doesn’t know them. He only knows what he’s told about them. And as much as I cared for both of them, I knew James best, just as you knew Lily better than everyone else here.”

“I am not nearly pissed enough to have a mature conversation with you.”

Sirius laughed. “And yet, here we are, not nearly pissed enough, but still having a talk about what you’re going to do about teaching an advanced magic technique to Harry. We both know he can do it with the right coaching. Besides, I think we both can say he’s far more like the two of us than he’ll ever really be like James and Lily.”

“Merlin help him, then,” Snape said, snorting.

“I know. James and Lily are rolling in their graves knowing that we’ve corrupted their son.”

Snape snorted again. “He does seem to have developed a panache for sarcasm.”

“See: that’s _your_ influence. Hands down.”

“Bloody hell and bugger all.”

“I will drink to that,” Sirius said. There was a soft clink and Harry pushed the door open to get a better look at them. He’d never seen Snape smile. Not a true smile. In fact, he thought Snape incapable of it. But it was there. Brought there by Sirius, of all people.

“Everything all right, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Harry’s face flushed. “Another nightmare. Like before.” Sirius hummed. “I was just getting a bit of tea.”

Snape stood. “I should go, actually.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asked.

“I’ve managed in worse states. Besides, the hour is rather late.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I’ll be out in five minutes, Professor. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” They fixed odd looks on him. Snape arched a brow as though he _knew_ rather than suspected. Still, Harry ignored their looks, preparing a cup with a peppermint tea bag resting inside it.

“I actually should go home,” Snape said. “Till next time, Black.”

“Yeah.”

Sirius walked him to the floo, though neither seemed truly drunk enough to require much aid in walking anywhere. Harry stared at the bottle of Ogden’s, curious.

An unbidden memory surfaced and he shuddered.

“Okay, have a seat and spill,” Sirius said as he returned. “Did you dream about Draco Malfoy again?”

Harry nodded, joining him at the table. “Snape knew my mom?”

Sirius sighed. “Yes. They were close. But we’ll talk about that later.”

“I really don’t want to talk about my dream, Sirius,” Harry said. “It’s just…what happens in them are…it scares me and I’m afraid of them. I know that’s ridiculous because they’re just dreams.”

“What if they aren’t, though?”

“They have to be,” Harry insisted, shuddering.  “I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t. I don’t like Malfoy, but no one deserves to go through what my dreams have been showing me and I don’t know why I’m dreaming such things. Maybe it’s just a way for me to deal with what I’ve gone through.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said. The silence was uncomfortable and thick as Harry drank his tea. Sirius cleared the table of the alcohol and glasses.

“Do you and Snape get along better than people think?” Harry asked.

“We can get along a bit, when the need arises. Part of the reason we don’t get along is because we’re similar.” Harry snorted, tea spilling down his chin.

“You and Snape are not similar. You’re a Gryffindor and he’s a Slytherin, for starters.”

“House affiliations aside, Snape and I were often paired together for projects. Mostly because if I were to be paired with your dad or Remus or…or Peter, there was no way I could hope to get anything done. All four of us were too easily distracted when we were together. But our professors learned that when they paired me with Snape together, our work was usually better than average. I could say only reason I passed potions was because of him. Not that either of us cared for the Slug Club.”

He chortled, noting Harry’s confusion. “The previous Potions Master had his own club of students he could see having influence in the future. He’d mentor them, help them establish connections, all so to better his standing. We both despised that. He wasn’t that good a teacher, either.”

Sirius joined him at the table again. “We know each other better than we’d like to, but sometimes there’s someone you meet that you can’t stand and later you realize that the reason you can’t stand them is because you’re so much alike to the point that even the differences you have compliment each other. Two sides of the same coin, so to speak. For instance, I know things about Snape that I’ve never told anyone simply because I understand. I might have a similar secret that I shared in respect. We don’t always get along. Hell, I don’t think there’d be a day we don’t bicker about something or other.”**

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “So,” he leaned on the desk. “Would that mean you’re in love with him?”

Sirius flushed and Harry saw one eye twitch. “Uh...well…I wouldn’t say _that_. Snape and I…we’re more…we’re like friends but we’re not…”

“Uh-huh,” Harry said. He took another sip of tea, contemplating what he’d been told. “So you’re like Ron and Hermione but from different houses.”

“I suppose we can say that,” Sirius said with a soft chuckle. “Save for that it should be noted that Ron and Hermione get along phenomenally better than I ever did with Snape. Or he with me.”

It seemed there was something more to that, if Harry read it right. Except, he couldn’t say he did. It was nearly three in the morning now, and he was steadily growing fatigued again. Yet he didn’t want to return to bed with the potential of more disturbing nightmares to haunt him.

Sirius checked the clock again. “Are you certain you don’t want to talk about it?” Harry nodded. “Then you really should go back to bed, Harry. Or else Molly might try to rip my ear off for keeping you up later than you need to be.”

“It’s not like you’re scared of her,” he said, shrugging. Then he grinned impishly. “Are you?”

“Absolutely, unequivocally, shit-in-your-pants terrified of her.” Harry snorted and covered his mouth as he laughed, shoulders shaking. “I don’t know how Arthur does it. I don’t know how her sons do it. Are you okay, Harry?”

Harry nodded, laughing too hard to properly reply.

#

Draco did not want to be there. He didn’t want to know what they were going to do, but he couldn’t get out of it, no matter how much he begged his father to tell them he’s feeling ill and needed rest. Narcissa at least would have tried to comfort him a little bit, but Lucius had been far more steel than usual since Draco was first given to Voldemort.

“I’ll have a potion sent to settle you, then,” Lucius said. “But you will be there, Draco.”

“But, Father –”

“You _will_ be there.” With that, Lucius left, shutting the door with more force than he might have meant. Even so, Draco winced and sat on the bed, shaking.

 _I’m your son,_ he thought. _Aren’t you supposed to protect me from people like HIM?_

In the end, he went obediently and was seated beside Voldemort as they discussed plans to break out other Death Eaters from Azkaban. He exhaled, trying not to let it show how the touch of Voldemort’s fingers playing with his hair bothered him.

Though he pretended at indifference and boredom, he listened. He tried not to think about what he’d do with the information, lest Voldemort reached into his mind again and saw what he, briefly, thought to do with it.

A light tug at a strand of hair at the base of his neck sent a shiver down his spine. A slight scratch of nails down his neck tickled and he swallowed a gasp. He sought his parents’ gazes, but they weren’t looking. Whether they had averted their eyes or were not paying attention, he didn’t know. He looked down the table, seeking anyone who might be willing to help him.

His gaze settled on Severus, who met it. He was frowning but remained impassive otherwise. He turned back to McNab, holding his hand up a though to rest his chin in the palm. To many, it seemed insignificant, but the steady tap of his index finger close to his ear calmed Draco. He counted the number of taps – ten.

Ten hours.

Ten hours and then he’d be on the train to Hogwarts.

Ten hours and he’d be as safe as he could hope to be.

Voldemort’s hand trailed down his back, sending chills through his body. He shuddered involuntarily and bit his lip.

Ten hours was still far too long a time to wait. Draco stood and excused himself, mumbling about needing the loo. He left as calmly as he dared, but once safe in one of the guest bathrooms, Draco locked the door and slid to the ground, weeping.

Even though it was just his touch, Draco felt disgusting, like an unwashed and ill-used toy. Perhaps that’s how Voldemort wanted him to feel. Or perhaps he’d been ruined for anyone’s touch now that he’d been sullied so much.

He tried to stand, legs shaking under his weight as he aimed to rid his face of any indication of his inner torments and personal struggle.

His father would not help him.

His mother felt she could do nothing.

And his teachers were working on a plan to rescue him, but he wished they’d fucking hurry up and come up with a plan faster!

Draco focused on breathing before trying to hide that he’d been upset. Voldemort may like to see him broken, but he wasn’t going to give that satisfaction to the Death Eaters. He cast a small glamour to hide the heated cheeks and red rimmed eyes before venturing back to the dining room and took his place beside Voldemort.

The hand returned to his hair and neck, and he ignored it as best he could again. If he didn’t ignore it, he might think about how direly he wanted to break that hand, to beat it with a beater’s bat.

And if he thought that, Voldemort might see it.

And if Voldemort saw it, Draco could expect a night more painful than usual.

#

 _It means that the Ministry is taking over Hogwarts_ , Hermione had said, trying and failing to hide her ire. Harry stayed up later than perhaps he ought to have, mulling over that statement. What did that mean Madam – _Professor_ Umbridge intended to do in the name of the Minister?

Somehow, it made him feel unsure. Even a little bit afraid. Still, there was little he could do about it now. Resigned, Harry attempted to get some sleep…

He arrived at his classes on time with his classmates, flanking Hermione on her right, sometimes her left. For the most part, it was a typical first day of school – minus the fact that every single teacher was working to put the fear of Merlin and Morgana in them all over OWLs that would take place at the end of year exam time in May.

But most of his teachers were ones he knew. Umbridge, though, was another matter entirely. The way she spoke to them was idiotic. Grating.

And when asked about practicum, she waved it off. “The Ministry believes that it is necessary to take a more theoretical approach to Defense.” Harry’s blood boiled at that.

“Professor, we have to be able to protect ourselves,” Hermione stated.

“Oh, my dear,” she cooed. “Whoever would you think want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Maybe Voldemort.” The corner of Umbridge’s mouth twitched and she looked around.

“I assure you, boys and girls,” she said. “That there has been ghastly rumors meant to cause panic among the public. Allegations about certain dark wizards who are long gone have returned.” She smiled deprecatingly at Harry. “This is a lie.”

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. “I wouldn’t lie about this,” he snarled. “I saw him return.”

“Mr. Potter, I will not allow lies in my classroom.”

“But I’m _not_ lying!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “If you and the bloody ministry would just listen –”

“Detention, Mr. Potter.”

“For what? Speaking the truth you don’t want to hear?”

“Sit. Down. Now.” Harry reluctantly obeyed. She looked around. “Anyone else want to disrupt class? No? Excellent. Open your books to chapter one.”

#

“And I thought Snape was unfair,” Ron muttered as they left the classroom. Harry twisted at his bag’s strap, teeth gnashing.

Two taps to his shoulder paused. Malfoy.

“What?”

“Can I talk to you? It’s about what you got into detention for.” Harry waved Ron off, assuring him that he’d catch up later. Once they were alone, Draco inhaled. “I believe you. More people believe you than you think. You’re not alone, even though everyone in the Ministry want you to think you are.”

“You’ve no reason to believe me,” Harry said.

“Actually, quite the opposite. He’s been hiding in my parents’ house. He’s been keeping quiet because it’s advantageous to him to still be thought dead or gone. I can’t go into more details than that, but that’s why I went to Dumbledore.”

Harry leaned against the wall. “I can’t keep this to myself, Malfoy. They need to know.”

“Whether they believe you or not is up to them. You’ve already done what you can. It’s not your fault they refused to listen. Fighting those who won’t listen is only going to take away the energy you need to prepare for when he is ready to make himself known. So just fuck what they think. They’re not going to listen to you until it’s too late. So, in your place, I’d leave it be. Let them see the error of their ways themselves and if they come crawling back for help…”

“I won’t abandon them,” Harry said. “Even if I don’t like them, they don’t deserve to be left to him and whatever fate he might decide for them.”

“That’s your decision to make,” Malfoy replied. “Just…you’ve done what you can to warn them. Now what are you going to do to make sure we’re ready to fight when he does decide to make himself known? Just something to think about.” They moved away from the wall. “See you at Potions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Second Hand Lions is a comedy that came out in 2003, a fact I am completely ignoring…  
> **OMG! I realized that I see the Snack ship as Freddy and Stuart from Vicious!!! XD


	5. Chapter 5

Harry’s hand still ached the next day when he entered the Potions classroom down in the dungeons. Snape and Malfoy were already there.

“Potter,” Snape said.

“Sn – Professor,” he said, recalling what he’d overheard between Snape and Sirius. “Am I late?”

“No. I was informing Malfoy about the particular magic I’ll be teaching you both.”

Harry sat at his usual seat, left hand hidden from view. It was still tender and a bit swollen.

“Legilimancy and Occlumency,” Snape continued. “Is the ability to look into another’s mind. Both require a large deal of focus and concentration that I sincerely hope you are both capable of.”

He arched a brow at Harry. “The Headmaster believes both of you are at risk of your minds being breached by the Dark Lord, who is knowledgeable in these two practices. By your luck, so am I.”

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who tried, and failed, to hide how he shook. He couldn’t blame him. Even if Snape knew about his past, what Vernon had done…

Well, who would want anyone to see that?

“Potter,” Snape said. “Stand up and face me. You will not need your wand, yet.”

Harry did so, feeling a bit nervous at having Snape’s wand aimed at him.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” he said.

Harry was thrust into a memory – thankfully not one that was too scarring. But of his first time riding a broom, face to face with a younger Malfoy. Just as arrogant, a smirk on his face.

Then it was Umbridge, poking at his sore hand.

He was back in the classroom, breathing heavily.

Snape approached in two strides and held his hand out.

“Let me see,” he said.

Harry hesitated.

“Potter, show me your hand.”

He raised it at last, looking down.

Unlike when Umbridge touched it, Snape was gentle in his examination.

“Malfoy, bring me Essence of Dittany from the supply closet.”

Malfoy did so, heading to the closet quickly.

“Potter, why did you try to hide this?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Potter, this is not nothing,” he said. “There is a right time to be brave and a wrong time. I will speak with Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster about your detention with Professor Umbridge in the morning.”

Malfoy returned with a small vial. Snape took it and unscrewed the top. It was a dropper. He raised dropper over Harry’s hand and squeezed three drops onto his hand.

Aside from the sting at first, the wound healed instantly.

“Why that line, if I may ask? Did you lie to her?”

“No, Sir,” Harry said.

“The Dark Lord.”

He nodded.

“It would be best to keep it to yourself, Potter. The Order of the Phoenix is doing our part to ensure that the masses are informed.”

“They deserve to know.”

“They do know. They’ve been told. What happens next is on them. If getting into detention with a witch who is set on torturing anyone who goes against her is the result, that won’t help anyone accept the truth, let alone yourself.”

“She’s not going to teach us to defend ourselves, Sir,” Malfoy said. “And we need to know that. Not just for school.”

Snape hummed. “That is true.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll approach the issue of your defense education with the Headmaster as well. But we should go back to the task at hand. Potter.”

Harry looked up at him. “Yes?”

“When I entered your mind, how did that feel?”

Harry swallowed. “Invasive. But I’ve never felt that before. Ever.”

“Oh? Perhaps not.”

“It wasn’t like that for me, either.”

Snape arched a brow, then looked at Harry. A memory, also from his first year, came to mind. The troll. A bloodied leg which was hastily hidden. “And now?”

“What? I didn’t – it didn’t feel like you entered my mind at all, but you did.”

“Exactly,” Snape said. “The goal in learning this magic is learning how to recognize that your mind is being invaded. Eventually, if you are both diligent, you’ll be able to recognize when something that _shouldn’t_ be there is, and you’ll be able to block it out. This kind of magic takes enormous concentration. That said,” he flicked his wand and two chairs became large pillows, “For the next month, I’m going to teach you how to clear your mind and be present with your surroundings. And once you have that mastered, then I can start making you both into at least decent Occlumens. Perhaps if you master that fast enough, perhaps I could teach you how to be Legilimens.”

#

Severus resisted the growing urge to hex Umbridge when he saw her the following morning at breakfast.

Schooling his emotions, he approached Minerva and Albus, whispering his request to meet with them, and Ponoma and Filius, as an afterthought.

After all, the teachers would need to be unified. Normally, he could just tell Albus and watch giddily at a well-deserved sacking. But as Umbridge had been appointed by the Minister and not the Headmaster, it would not be so simple.

With all of them free for the first period – for once – they could meet in the Headmaster’s office and discuss the matter privately.

And once that was agreed on, Severus took his seat – unfortunately beside Umbridge – and began to eat. The woman really was hideous. And seeing what she’d done to one of their students the previous night made her even uglier.

He found his gaze travelling to the Gryffindor table.

The boy seemed better, but even if he outwardly seemed all right, that didn’t mean he really was.

There was numbness.

Severus had been cautious in what he brought to his mind. He didn’t want to make either of the boys relive their trauma if it could be helped.

After a small breakfast (he wasn’t that hungry), he went to Albus’ office and waited for the others to catch up. He greeted them in the hallway, allowing the others to head up before him so that he could say what he wished without missing anyone.

“So,” Minvera said once they’ve sat down. “What is this about, Severus?”

He told them about the first occlumency lesson, what he’d seen in Harry’s mind, the message written into his hand by a dark object. The other heads of house fumed as he finished his tale.

Albus listened in silence.

“I do not know if I will be able to make the minister see reason,” he said. “But I will inform him. In the meantime, I will call for a staff meeting to reassess how detentions are handled. It may be that it’s time to tighten that particular rule so that only heads of house will supervise detentions. Just so that we can ensure that it fits the crime, so to speak.”

“Perhaps also have a written explanation from both teacher and student of the situation,” Filius suggested, “to keep it fair.”

Three pairs of eyes set on Severus.

“What? So, I’m a hard ass. I teach a class with the potential of making the school explode and turn into goo. And that’s not even the worst that can happen.”

“Wasn’t there a rumor two years ago that a student’s bogart turned into you?” Ponoma asked nonchalantly. “I believe that was when Remus taught Defense. Pity he felt he needed to leave.”

“Wasn’t that because of you, too, Severus,” Filius stated.

Severus groaned. “Okay, fine, I shouldn’t have been so bloody petty and spilled to the whole school that our…admittedly best defense teacher in years grew a tail once a month or had fleas. As for that particular student,” he crossed his arms. “I have all the instructions they need on the board. Even if he does have a memory problem, he can read. I know he can read because he can write. There is _no excuse_ for any student to do _that badly_ in my class save for not paying attention. Every fucking year I tell the firsties that they’ll do fine if they pay fucking attention. Now, can we discuss what we’re going to do about _Madam Undersecretary_?”

“Fine,” Minerva said. “But we really should talk about your own treatment of the students outside of Slytherin House, Severus.”

 _Shit_ , he thought. _If Minerva thinks I’m that bad, then I likely am._

“I happen to like the idea of leaving detentions to the heads of house,” she continued. “And the idea of a written report to explain the incident. It’s not as ideal as I’d like, but it’s a damn sight better, I find. It could reduce serious bias.”

Again, they looked at him.

“Another thing we might want to consider is Filch,” Filius added. “I’ve far too many students coming to me about his treatment of them.”

“Stress of the job?”

“Add to that he’s not exactly the friendliest…Filch is rather cantankerous at best, and he has admitted to a few of my students who served detention with him that he’d like to torture them,” Ponoma said.

“Ah, yes,” Minerva added. “That was brought to my attention as well a few times.”

“And mine,” Filius said.

“He was saying that sort of stuff when I was still a student myself,” Severus admitted. “So, yeah, I would not be surprised.”

Dumbledore hummed. “I do wish we had done this earlier. I will have a talk with Argus. I did not know this was as big an issue as before. When the Chamber was opened a second time three years ago, the only incident of such misconduct I’ve witnessed or been aware of from him was when he threatened to kill Harry Potter. He was reprimanded, privately, then. As such…well…” He sighed. “Yes. It may be time to seek reform, but not the sort that the Ministry might seek from us.”

“So, staff meeting this weekend?” Minerva asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

“Save for Madam Secretary?”

He shot her an unimpressed look.

“What? It’s not like any of us see her as a teacher. And given what we know now, I do not want to think what she’d attempt to do about these new, sudden changes.”

“She should be there, though,” Severus said. “Just so she is aware that we will not let her walk over us and undermine our authority. We may also want to involve the school board.”

“Excellent idea,” Filius said. “Staff and the school board together should place some limitations on what the Ministry can do insofar as education.”

“It’d have been more ideal to have done this before the school year began,” Minerva stated.

“True, but whatever changes cannot be made this year can be made _next_ year,” Ponoma added. “Besides, there’s other ideas that I have that could help the school improve. Not all of us are equipped to handle emotional stress and problems, after all.”

Severus arched a brow at that. “Isn’t Poppy also a mind healer?”

“Not everyone is open to speaking to Poppy about things. And the four of us aren’t always able to know what to do in the midst of a student’s breakdown.”

“And given what Potter’s gone through…” Minerva looked at Albus, brow arched.

Albus nodded again. “Yes, I think that would be wise to have some extra staff equipped to help students through certain traumas. Even ones able to help the staff.”

With that, he looked at Severus, who inhaled sharply, and released his breath just as quickly.

His traumas and memories were his own. He, for the most part, had overcome them already. True, there were days they were worse than usual. But still.

“I’ll send a notice to the rest of the staff,” Albus said. “As well to the school board, and the Minister. I cannot promise we’ll all be able to meet this weekend, but we should be able to find a time for us all to have a much needed discussion.”

They made to leave, but Albus requested Severus to stay behind. Once alone, Albus motioned for him to sit again.

“Are you sure you can handle both Harry and Draco in this? I feel that Voldemort may already be aware of the connection between him and Harry.”

“It’s possible,” Severus said, “Given what Black informed me concerning some of Potter’s dreams.”

“Then it is more than imperative that Harry become an Occlumens.”

“I agree, but there’s more to it than that. Both of them need to become Occlumens, or Voldemort will have a hold over both Potter and Malfoy. And with Umbridge’s regime, well, it seems that the ministry seeks to make it impossible for future wizards and witches to defend themselves. Sir, I know it is not my job to teach them to defend themselves, but given the situation…”

Albus hummed thoughtfully. Then he smiled gently and met Severus’ gaze.

“I know you want to teach them how to defend themselves, Severus. You’re a master duelist. One of the best in the country still.”

“Last I checked,” he said, shrugging.

“You’re also adept in wandless magic, silent incantation, and muggle methods of combat.”

“Sir, you’ve my resume on file regarding all this. Why are you even bothering to recite what you already know?”

“Sometimes it helps to remember. I had not needed you to switch your course, yet, but I think, if you do not mind the extra workload – I do not want you assigning them homework, Severus. I think Umbridge will manage that part well enough. But if anyone can teach them what they _need_ to know, I know you can. Granted, I’m still unsure of your methods.”

“Magic is neither good nor evil,” Severus reminded him. “It’s how it’s used. Even the Unforgiveables can be used for the sake of good. It is not the spell’s fault that it has been so poorly used by the caster.”

“And that is what I fear,” Albus said, sighing. “But the old adage does state that in desperate times, there is need for desperate measures. Do what you can to keep it hidden from Umbridge, but I am placing my trust in you, Severus. Those who want to know how to fight and how to defend themselves I place in your hands.”

Severus nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Thank you, Headmaster.”

#

Since that first day, Malfoy had taken to keeping close to him when able.

He’d have found it suspicious, if not for that they often would discuss Occlumency lessons. Both found it rather boring, so far. Most of what they were doing was meditating.

Snape insisted it was to clear their minds, but both of them were too easily distracted.

Several times a funny thought would creep up in one of their minds, sending snorts and barely concealed laughs.

There was the one time Harry made the unfortunate error of eating one of the bean dishes served at dinner, which completely ruined the lesson and Snape sent them back to their dorms early as they were laughing over fart jokes and friendly ribbing each other too much to concentrate.

Right now, it was how best to invite others who were frustrated with Umbridge’s way of doing things to join in Snape’s “Remedial Potions” class. Harry new a few, who would be interested from other houses, and Draco could convince a few interested Slytherins.

The last week of September, Dumbledore called them in for a school assembly, announcing new changes that would be implemented:

Detentions would only be served with one’s head of house – and that the reason behind the detention will be analyzed by said head of house before a date to serve it is set.

Another was the introduction of their new caretaker – as Mr. Filch has been retired (“They fired Filch,” Hermione had translated), and new healers hired as counselors.

They were technically called mind healers, but Harry figured “counselor” was a far more accurate title. Two to each house: one a wizard, the other a witch.

But the most joy came out of seeing how Umbridge took all this. She hid it well, but there was a glimmer of fury in her gaze as it settled on the staff.

As though most of these changes were made to limit her power.

And, Harry thought, perhaps they were.

They were then sent to their houses so that the heads may introduce their new counselors.

For Gryffindor, they were Ms. Mary Wolcott and Mr. Jon Bagans.

After a brief introduction, they were dismissed.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall called before he could escape with Ron to their dorm rooms. He waved his classmates off and approached. Bagans stood by her side. “Potter, I have scheduled you to meet with Mr. Bagans once a week.”

Harry gaped. “I don’t need therapy, Professor.”

“Professor Dumbledore and I think you do,” she stated with finality. “But if you’d rather meet with Ms. Wolcott, that can be arranged.”

Harry weighed the options in front of him. He’d rather go to Sirius to talk. Or even Mr. Weasley.

“No, Professor,” he said, sighing. He looked at Bagans. “When should I be at your office, Sir?”

#

“So you’re unavailable Thursdays, now?” Malfoy asked as they waited for Snape to arrive for their Occlumency lesson.

Harry nodded, scowling.

“They did the same to me,” Malfoy said, examining his fingernails. “But at least I know who the bloke is, so it’s not that uncomfortable, I suppose.”

“Why would they want you to talk to a counselor – er, mind healer?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” Harry assured him, “I get if it’s too sensitive.”

Malfoy lowered his hand, staring at the floor. “It’s very sensitive, but I’ll tell you if you tell me why they want you to see a mind healer.”

Harry thought about it.

“Okay,” he said, looking at Malfoy, who met his gaze. “Snape already knows this, so I don’t care if he comes in: my…my uncle prostituted me to pedophiles from the time I was four years old till just recently when Dumbledore found out and alerted the aurors.”

Malfoy stared at him, stunned and horrified. “Why?”

“Money,” Harry said, shrugging. “That’s all it was to him. And I was too young to really know and when I did know, I had gotten so used to it, I didn’t care.”

Malfoy swallowed. “The Dark Lord made me his…consort,” he said. “I told you he was staying at my parents’ house, so…well, I did try to keep out of their way. Especially his. But he saw me, I guess, and decided he wanted me, so after I turned fifteen, my parents told me that I’m going to be sharing a bed with him. I didn’t want to do any of it and I begged them to stop it, but…they couldn’t. Or at least they feel as though they couldn’t.”

“He raped you?”

Malfoy nodded. “He seems to really like hurting me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come back to school, but I’m glad I was. I just…I don’t know what I’m going to do when the holidays creep around because it’s expected that I’ll come back.”

Harry felt as though he’d been thrown in ice water. His dreams weren’t dreams after all.

“You can’t go back.”

“Do you think I have a choice?”

“You told Dumbledore, didn’t you? That’s why you were at Grimauld Place that one time.”

“Yes. I told Severus and he brought me there to tell Dumbledore.”

“Then you don’t have to go back.”

“It’s not that easy. Unless I can sever the bond he formed with me I can’t just run away. And fuck, I want to. I want to go where he won’t be able to get me, but right now, he owns me. So that’s why I’m here, doing what I can not to get frustrated with the pace of things because I _have_ to master this if I want to be free of him.”

Harry exhaled. He had to tell him he knew. “Malfoy, um, I think I’m here because I also have a link with Voldemort.” Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I see…what he sees…”

“So you knew what he was doing to me?”

Harry nodded, blinking violently as tears threatened to fall. “I didn’t know it was real. I didn’t know they weren’t dreams.”

He half expected Malfoy to make some angry quip about him probably thinking it funny, just to feel better about himself, but he said nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Could you help it?”

“No. I swear I thought they were nightmares. Psychosomatic stuff or something like that…What happened to me, I wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone. And even then, what happened to me wasn’t nearly so violent. What he did to you is disgusting.”

“So I disgust you.”

Harry looked at him. “No. I did not say that. _Voldemort_ disgusts me. What he did to you isn’t your fault. And you should never think it is.”

“Good, because I don’t.”

“Good.”

Any more that would be said was left unsaid as Snape arrived at last, seething. They transfigured their chairs into cushions to sit on and began meditating, too nervous to ask what had gotten under his skin.

But even so, Harry couldn’t concentrate.

He wanted to talk to Draco about this.

Find out if there was something he could do to help him escape faster.

Knowing what he did now, he couldn’t let him go back to Voldemort.

He just couldn’t.

#

_“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “I’d never hurt you.”_

_“I know,” Draco replied, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry took his hand and kissed the inner wrist. “Harry…”_

_“Tell me what you want me to do,” Harry said…_

Draco woke, gasping. His heart hammered in his chest, his skin was cold from sweat.

Oh, if not for the link between him and Voldemort, he could probably enjoy the dream. But if Voldemort saw that…if he knew…

What if he already did know?

What if Draco didn’t realize he was dreaming soon enough?

 _Relax_ , he told himself. _If he knew, he’d have done something about it by now._ It wasn’t much comfort, but it was enough to calm him for now. Draco grabbed his things and went to prepare for the day.

As he did so, he found he couldn’t stop thinking of the dream.

Potter’s green eyes, so tender and kind…

The warmth of his breath against Draco’s wrist…

What would he have said?

_Tell me what you want me to do._

Draco leaned against the wall, letting hot water beat down on him.

 _Touch me gently,_ he thought. _Kiss me. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me._

He could imagine that Harry would obey, drawing his hands and fingers over him in feather light touches as he kissed Draco, slow and sensuous.

 _Still too dangerous_ , he reminded himself, trying to shake the fantasy away.

But the thoughts remained in the back of his mind, nevertheless. Through the day, Draco would avoid Harry’s gaze as best he could.

He had to.

He told himself he had to.

If he dared to look at Potter, then he’d risk acknowledging that, even after all this time, he still loved him despite the apparent fact that Potter would _not ever_ want him.


	6. Chapter 6

For now, the Defense Practicum, as it was secretly known to Albus and Severus, was under the guise of a remedial potions class.

Potter and Malfoy had gathered about thirty-three other students.

Five Hufflepuffs: Macmillan, Abbot, Finch-Fletchley, Bones, and Smith.

Seven Ravenclaws: Goldstein, Chang, Lovegood, Edgecombe, Corner, Patil, and Boot.

Eight Slytherins: Malfoy, Parkinson, the Greengrass sisters, Bullstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini.

Sixteen Gryffindors: Potter, Granger, four Weasleys, Spinnet, Johnson, Thomas, the Creevey brothers, Bell, Jordon, Longbottom, Finnegan, and the other Patil twin.

Severus wasn’t sure how nearly half of the group ended up being Gryffindors, but he supposed that wasn’t too unexpected.

He examined the group and locked the door once they were all there. After casting a couple spells so to avoid interruption and intrusion, he turned to them, eyes narrowed and a snarl on his lips.

“For some of you this may be review,” he began. “As your education in Defense has been rather all over the place, I will not be surprised if you do not know the basic spells taught to first years. As such, I expect you to be ever diligent in mastering these spells as quickly as possible. We will only focus on what you _should_ know for the first term. That gives you two and a half months to get to the same level as a fifth year at minimum. If you find that to be too difficult for you, get out now.”

He waited for anyone to shuffle out the door and go to their dorms. 

No one moved.

Not even Longbottom.

After thirty seconds, he harrumphed and returned to the front of the room.

“May Merlin help you, then,” he said.

Looking around, he sought to remember who had which defense teacher.

The last two hadn’t been bad. Aside from that it was Crouch Jr. and not Moody who taught them last year. Knowing that, he could hope that they were far more able than he thought.

Though many of them were here for Quirrel’s term and also Lockhart’s…

At the very least, Quirrel did know what he was talking about when he could get it out.

Lockhart, though…ah, the dueling club was a rather fond memory…but Lockhart was pathetic as he was stupid. Most of the time that year Severus itched to cast a good many hexes on Lockhart.

Flamboyant.

Arrogant.

_Why does it still rattle me? He’s been hospitalized for over two years now and deserves it, the pillock…_

“Get out your wands,” he said. “And we’ll begin with shield charms.”

#

Sirius summoned a second glass as Snape slumped into a chair. He filled it with firewhiskey and held it out for Snape to take.

He took it, mumbling something as close to “thanks” as Sirius supposed he could expect from him.

“So?” he asked, sitting next to him. Snape arched a brow at him.

“So?”

“That defense practicum class you’re teaching now. Today was the first time you met.”

Snape nodded. “It’s a decent sized class,” he said. “Some are third and fourth years, so I won’t hold them to the same standards as those who are in their sixth and seventh year, so I suppose that’ll be the focus for the spring term. If all goes well, at the very least they’ll be well prepared for their OWLs and NEWTs. The majority are fifth years. Nearly half are bloody Gryffindors.”

Sirius laughed.

He didn’t mean to, but the way he said _bloody Gryffindors_ was with such disdain it was almost hilarious.

“Does that really bother you?”

“Only in that I’ve not the best relationship with them. I thought at least ten would storm out once they realized I was going to be teaching the class.”

“Oh, I’m sure Harry warned everyone that they’d be dealing with your sour looks more often.”

“And Malfoy, too,” Snape said. He took another drink. “All in all, I suppose for a first day, it could be worse. Given how sporadic their Defense education has been, I expected it to go much worse.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Sounds like it went better than any potions class you ever taught.”

Snape snorted. “A bit. Perhaps they understand the direness of the current situation, so they’re overlooking how much they hate me, and vice versa.”

Sirius eyed him as he drank.

True, Severus Snape had not exactly grown into a handsome man.

Far from it.

His nose was still large, his hair limp, his skin waxy…but there was something _more_ beneath that. Sirius had always seen it, and ignored it.

Lily had seen it.

She had known it.

Even after that fateful day where their friendship ended, she still saw it. It only really appeared when he was angry. At least that’s how it seemed to Sirius.

“What?” Snape asked, scowling at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Just trying to figure you out,” Sirius admitted. “You’re still a bloody enigma.”

“Well, stop it,” Snape snarled. “It’s unnerving.”

“I’m not going to attack you, Snape,” Sirius said. “You don’t need to be on guard.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he said, finishing his drink.

The floo flared as others filed in for the meeting.

“You give me too little credit,” Sirius mumbled as Severus went to greet Moody and Kingsley.

_Who are you, really, Snape?_

“Not planning anything you shouldn’t, are you?” Remus asked, sitting beside Sirius. “Or are you already pissed as hell?”

“Not that sloshed yet, but I promise I’m not planning something.”

“Ooh, you best not be thinking then,” Remus said. “We discussed the issues of that in length multiple times and always come to the same conclusion: if _you_ think, bad things happen.”

Sirius snorted. “How about this: I’m spaced out. I’m not drunk, but I’m close enough to have nothing going through my head.”

Remus laughed, “Works for me. Best wait on getting properly drunk till later.”

“Fine.”

“But in all seriousness, what’s got your attention this time?” Remus asked.

Sirius hummed, wondering how much to tell him.

“Is it Harry?”

“No. He’s doing better, I know that. Minerva has him seeing a mind healer, so,” he shrugged. “That will help.”

Remus hummed his agreement.

Sirius massaged his neck.

“It’s Snape.”

“Ah, the age old obsession rears its head,” Remus said. “I wondered when it would.” 

Sirius glowered at him.

“What? Come on, Padfoot, anyone who knew you well enough suspected you might have had a bit of a crush on him. Well, eyes and a brain. James was rather ignorant in that regard most of the time.”

Sirius groaned. “I never fancied Snape. Have you seen the bloke?”

“Not everyone is attracted to outward beauty. You certainly never were,” Remus pointed out. “For you, it’s always been more…the heart of a person rather than their appearance. You’ve always been able to tell a good person from a bad and I think that’s why Snape got under your skin most of the time. He’s a good man who has had to pretend to be evil. And I think, back then, we just never understood why anyone would hide their true nature so much.”

“Now I’m thinking we all should have lectured you about thinking too much,” Sirius muttered. “You’re barmy, Moony. I blame the wolfsbane.”

“You can if you want,” Remus said.

They fell silent as the other members of the Order joined them at the table.

#

Harry avoided Bagan’s stare.

For now, it seemed fine.

At least he wasn’t being forced to talk.

And he wasn’t being asked questions.

Yet.

He knew he’d have to talk to him, eventually, but what could be said?

“Have you seen a mind healer before, Harry?”

At last, he met Bagan’s eyes. Harry shook his head.

“We can talk about anything you like,” he said. “We don’t have to get into the heavier things unless you want to. Or until you’re ready to.”

“You can read about it all in the papers, too,” Harry said.

“Are they accurate?”

Harry blinked. “Well…no.”

“Then why would I want to read it? Yes, I know what’s been said of you, but I think there’s more to you than just what you’ll see in the _Prophet_. And I am aware that Rita Skeeter is the sort to tell half-truths for the sake of ratings.”

“She’s nasty,” Harry agreed.

“That I do not doubt,” Bagans agreed. “You met her, though,” he said. “How was that?”

Harry scoffed, detailing how she spied on them, tried to ruin his reputation and his friends, discredit him, make him seem unstable…

“Doesn’t sound to me that she treated you and your friends fairly,” Bagans surmised.

“No. She didn’t,” Harry agreed. “But I’ve dealt with worse.”

“What do you mean by worse?” Bagans asked.

Harry froze.

The first thing that came to mind was what Vernon had had him do. And he’d rather not go over that again. Certainly not with Bagans…

_“Harry,” Sirius had called. “Mind if I steal you away for a moment?”_

_Harry bade the twins farewell for now, letting Ginny take his place on Exploding Snap, and followed Sirius to the library._

_Seated at the table in the library were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Kingsley._

_Harry turned from them to Sirius._

_“You told them?”_

_“I did,” Sirius said. “The four of us are going to talk about it.”_

_“But I’m fine.”_

_“No, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said. “You’re not.”_

_Harry glared at them, arms crossed._

_“Maybe I’m not, but it’s nothing to worry about.”_

_“Harry,” Sirius said, sitting beside Mr. Weasley. “What your uncle did was not normal, nor acceptable.”_

_“And? Does it matter?”_

_“Harry, your aunt knows now, too,” Kingsley informed him. “She attacked your uncle when she found out.”_

_Harry blinked._

_Petunia attacking Vernon?_

_How’d that even work?_

_She was a twig compared to Vernon._

_He snorted. It had to be a joke._

_“She hates me too much, so I find that unbelievable.”_

_“Professor Dumbledore was there, too. And Professor Snape,” Kingsley said. “All three of us saw her attack him once he had taken veritaserum.”_

_“He wouldn’t take a potion willingly.”_

_“He didn’t. We had to force it down his throat even after your aunt assured him it was safe to drink.”_

_“Harry, please sit down,” Mrs. Weasley said. “You don’t need to be on guard with us. We want to help you, if we can.”_

_“I don’t want help.”_

_“That’s not up to you,” Mr. Weasley said. “I know Molly and I are not your parents, but Harry, we know they would not want you to continue thinking that what happened to you was in any way normal. You need help, whether you want it or not.”_

_“So what? Don’t I get a say in this?”_

_“No,” Sirius said. “No, you don’t.”_

_“We’ll be staying here until we know you truly understand what it is that you went through.”_

_“I get it wasn’t normal, but what’s it matter? I wasn’t hurt.”_

_“Oh, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley moaned, shaking as she began to weep._

_Harry stared, perturbed._

_Mr. Weasley rubbed her back, looking quite grim._

_“Harry, it doesn’t matter you weren’t physically harmed,” Sirius said. “You can’t ignore the emotional pain just because there’s no physical pain.”_

“Harry?”

Jolted from the memory, Harry blinked, turning back to Bagans.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just…I’m not ready to discuss…that…yet.”

“All right,” he said. “How about we talk about something less loaded: you play Quidditch, right?”

Harry grinned.

That was something he could talk about, easily.

#

“Potter, are you even _bothering_ to clear your mind?” Snape shot, lowering his wand.

“Yes, I’m trying. It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“What exactly is making it hard?”

“It’s not like I intend to get distracted…” Harry muttered.

He’d not been having strange dreams. Nor has he felt like he’d been invaded by Voldemort’s mind.

In a way, he might’ve thought he was being left alone now, but perhaps that was not the case at all.

“Malfoy, I do hope you’re having better luck,” Snape said, rounding on him and casting the spell.

Draco hissed as if the invasion stung.

After a minute, Snape lowered his wand, growling.

“Neither of you are putting enough effort into this,” he snapped. “Both of you know this is essential to your survival! I would expect you to be able to at least push me out if you can’t block me right away.”

He ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

Harry looked at Draco, who had bowed his head.

Draco inhaled and lifted his head, staring at Snape.

“Don’t you think you might be expecting too much from us so soon?” he asked. “When did you master occlumency, Sir? Somehow I don’t think you were fifteen.”

Harry looked from Snape to Draco, unsure what to do or if he should say anything.

Snape glowered at them. Then he sighed.

“Fair enough,” he said. “I was nineteen when I became a master legilimens and occlumens. So perhaps it might be too difficult still at this time, but the urgency surrounding why you both need to master this particular craft _as soon as possible_ has not ebbed, Malfoy. And Potter.”

Harry looked at him, unblinking.

“I know you’ve mastered the Patronus charm. Most wizards can’t even do _that_ and those who _can_ never mastered it until they were seventeen. I would expect someone who mastered a corporeal patronus at thirteen to be able to master occlumency and legilemency just as easily.”

“I didn’t actually master it till the end of the year, so…”

“Even so, you mastered it. You can produce a patronus with a full form and body. This is not much different in complexity. Whatever is distracting you from clearing your mind at night, get rid of it. Fix it. Tell your friends and roommates to shut up. Cast a silencing spell around your bed. I don’t care. Just make time to do what you must. Same with you, Malfoy.”

With that, Snape dismissed them and once they were far from the classroom, Harry turned to Draco.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Harry frowned at him. “Are you sure? You’ve been a bit off, lately.”

Malfoy flushed and avoided Harry’s gaze. “I’ve been…a bit unwell. That’s all. I’ve already seen the nurse about it.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, frowning at him. He couldn’t say why, but he felt Draco was lying to him.

But why?

Why would he feel he needed to?

“You can trust me, you know,” Harry said. “If you want to talk, that is. I think of you as a friend now.”

Draco looked at him, at last, a bit surprised. Then he grinned. Harry decided a real smile was better on Draco than a smirk.

“Thanks,” Draco said. “I think of you as a friend now, too. To be honest, Snape’s right. I don’t know how well I can be trusted if I don’t master this, but it means a lot that you trust me anyway.”

“It’s not like either of us want Voldemort running around in our heads, but I don’t think we’re going to master occlumency as fast as Snape would like us to. Not unless we focus solely on that and nothing else and we can’t do that. Not if we want to get through OWLs.”

“Snape can be a hard ass, but he means well,” Draco said. “Can I see your patronus?”

Harry grinned and pulled his wand free from his pocket. “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he said.

A silver stag leapt from his wand and trotted around the hallway.

“Cool.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Harry said.

“How’d you do it?”

“It takes a strong, happy memory that gives you a feeling of joy or happiness. Then you concentrate on it and then cast the charm. The stronger the memory, the stronger the patronus and if its strong enough, it takes form, like mine did. It’s easier once you know what really strengthens it.”

“And what strengthens yours?” Draco asked.

The patronus faded.

“Knowing that I _can_ produce a patronus,” he said. “Having confidence that it can take form and be as strong as it needs to be. It’s probably not the same for everyone. What makes my patronus strong will probably be different for your patronus.”

Draco gently took the sleeve of Harry’s robe, pausing them at the fork where Harry would go on up to Gryffindor and Draco turn to head back to Slytherin.

“Maybe that’s what we need to master occlumency,” he said. “That same confidence you have for producing a corporeal patronus.”

“Maybe it is,” Harry agreed. “Have you plans for Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“Just to wander about, do a bit of holiday shopping before the madness sets in,” Draco said. “Why?”

Harry shrugged. “Wanted to ask if you’d be there,” he said. “Maybe we can meet up at the Broomsticks for lunch. Or get some stuff from Zonko’s.”

“Half the stuff from Zonko’s is banned, Potter.”

“I’m sorry, you say that like it matters.”

“It should matter.”

Harry laughed. “Have you any idea how much contraband is smuggled into Gryffindor tower? What the new caretaker doesn’t know won’t land us in detention. Add to it, he seems less insane and violent than Filch, so…”

“Still could get us detention.”

Harry grinned. “Scared, Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco arched a brow, “You wish, Potter.”

“Good. See you at class tomorrow.”

#

Harry closed the curtains of his four poster bed and cast a charm around it, blocking out all sound outside, enclosing him in a secure bubble of silence while Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus laughed and joked outside.

He rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to loosen up enough to enter a meditative state.

Once his mind was calm and blank, he focused on the wall he was supposed to put up.

He imagined it was made of bricks.

Strong, steady, heavy.

It would cocoon his mind from all who wished him harm.

In the bricks, he thought it inlaid with various protection spells and strengthening spells to make it more impervious…

Then it was gone.

Harry was pulled into a hallway.

Rows and rows of shelves with silver glass balls surrounded him.

He was searching.

He was looking for something.

One of the glass balls needed to be found.

Needed to be seen.

To be held.

To be heard.

Where was it?

Where?

He stopped at one row and traveled down it, his wand lighting his way to it.

Then he found it.

It had his name on it.

This was it!

_“Bring it to me.”_

Harry opened his eyes, pulling himself out too quickly.

The light of the room dizzied him. His body was stiff from disuse. He stretched and removed the silencing charm around him.

His roommates were still awake, so he pulled his curtains open and cleared his throat.

“Hey, do any of you know about a place that’s just full of shelves and crystal balls?” He asked. The other four exchanged glances and shook their heads. Harry hummed, frowning.

What was that place?


	7. Chapter 7

Sirius groaned, deeply immersed in the dream.

His skin was slick with sweat.

His heart hammered in his chest.

Everything was too hot.

Then he woke, gasping, hard cock pressing against his pants.

Sirius laid back down on the bed, palming his erection as he wondered how long it’d been since sex has last been on his mind.

Before Azkaban, certainly…during his incarceration, the very idea of sex and the pleasure of it had been driven from his mind. He’d not given it thought after his escape, either, so focused on revenge that it never crossed his mind.

And after?

Well, he’d been on the run, then he returned to join the Order, returned to the house he vowed never to return to, but had no other place to go, so it was as though trading one prison for another…

But at least here, though the memories were just as horrid, it wasn’t used to torture him now, they were just that: memories.

And so, he supposed he was now getting into a state where he felt…somewhat safe.

Sirius dragged the palm of his hand over the cloth, rubbing at the hard flesh beneath him.

He gasped at the more sensitive points along his penis. Then he pushed his clothes down and off, tossed the blankets to the ground, and reached for his wand, locking the door and casting a silencing charm around it.

None would be able to get in and he wouldn’t be heard. Sirius cast a lubrication spell, letting liquid fill his palm before he laid down again. He tucked his other hand behind his head, and rubbed the lube over his cock before taking a firmer hold along the length of it.

He watched as he explored his body again, thoughtful, making note of what felt good enough for his eyes to roll back in his head and what was not as pleasant as he thought it would be.

Eventually, muscle memory took over and he let himself to let the pleasure wash over him.

He gasped, arching, as he came, whispering _Severus_ …

Once the pleasure of his orgasm ebbed, Sirius could only feel horror.

He came saying _Severus Snape’s name_!

Snape! The same man who had been a thorn in his side since they were first years at school!

Snape! The man who still despised Sirius as much as Sirius despised him!

Sirius shook the thought from his mind. He needed to get a grip.

They were on the same side, after all, and they’d grown up.

Well, mostly grown up.

He could handle this.

#

Snape recounted the events of the last meeting between Death Eaters steadily, gaze never wavering from Dumbledore.

Sirius had been trying to avoid looking at Snape, angry and ashamed at his embarrassment.

No one _knew_!

No one needed to know.

It would remain his secret and he would take it to his grave.

“Thank you, Severus,” Albus said. “And the boys?”

“Progressing slowly,” he said. “But progressing, nevertheless. I would prefer them to be able to break their bond with the Dark Lord as soon as possible, but I have to remember how difficult this magic is and that they’re only fifteen.”

“Does their age play a part?” Remus asked, frowning.

“Well, no. Not really…in the muggle world, children learn different things based on how mature they are and how developed their brains are. Magic is the same,” Snape explained. “For instance, with arithmetic, a five year old might be able to add and subtract. By fifteen, they’re able to not only do that, but also solve more difficult equations.

“And take maturity: a five year old might understand that a mother gets pregnant and carries the new baby in her womb for a few months, but at fifteen, they know the mechanics of that and even desire to experiment in sexual pleasure which they needn’t need to do at five.

“However, the magic I’m trying to get them to master is post-NEWTs level magic. The Patronus charm falls into such a category, and Potter’s already mastered _that_. However, the theories surrounding the mechanics of Occlumency and Legilimency are completely different from the mechanics of a Patronus.

“With the Patronus, the caster is focusing on good memories, memories that filled them with pride, joy, confidence, etcetera.

“To master occlumency, the occlumens must clear their mind to such a level that they’re almost in a meditative state and create some sort of block that will allow them to protect their thoughts from a legilimens or a creature skilled at reading minds. It’s a defensive technique that also protects their minds from manipulation.

“The legilimens could read a person’s mind, feed them thoughts that are not their own, mutate their memories, give them false visions, and so on. An occlumens can protect themselves from that kind of psychic attack, even recognize it for what it is. They can feel the signature of the legilimens attacking them. For instance, the Dark Lord’s magical signature is like the snake pit in…”

He furrowed his brow.

“In?” Molly pressed.

“I was about to reference a muggle culture thing, then remembered how many here wouldn’t understand. Most here were raised in wizarding homes.”

Tonks’ eyes lit up. “Wait! Wait! I think I know what you’re talking about…uh…uhm…fuck, what’s it – _Raiders of the Lost Ark_!!!”

Snape sighed, trying and failing not to smile. “If I could give points to Hufflepuff for that, I would.”

“Technically, you still can,” Tonks said, grinning brightly. “We need to schedule a film night, Professor. Just the Order and _Indiana Jones_.”

“I don’t like some of the people here getting ideas, Tonks,” Snape said. “But I agree that a film night needs to be arranged. It’s been too long since I indulged my inner muggle nerd.”

“What’s a film?” Arthur asked.

Tonks and Snape snorted. Even Remus chuckled a bit at that.

“As fascinating as this all is,” Dumbledore said. “Perhaps we should get back to the meeting.”

From there on, any tangents were filed away to discuss after the meeting adjourned. While some went to floo home, Sirius sought to grab a glass of Ogden’s, trying to ignore how his chest seemed to tighten as Snape and Tonks talked of things he could not.

“Care to share some of that?” Remus asked, looking as sour as Sirius felt.

Sirius poured him a glass. He knocked it back with vehemence. Sirius studied Remus: he couldn’t recall ever seeing the werewolf so tense. He dared to glance where Tonks and Snape sat, chatting amicably.

“Not sure I see what’s got your knickers knotted,” Sirius said, pouring Remus another glass.

“Just realizing how Prongs might’ve felt,” Remus admitted with a sigh. He drank slower the second time, savoring the drink.

Sirius glanced at Snape again.

“Yeah. Just a bit.” _But not quite the same_. He massaged his forehead, mentally berating himself. _I’m not in love with Snape, for Merlin’s sake!_ He arched a brow at him. “Now, are you admitting that you fancy my baby cousin?”

“Don’t go there.”

“Moony.”

“Leave it alone.”

“Granted, I suppose it could be worse,” Sirius said.

He took a sip of the whiskey and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

“I will bite you next full moon.”

“Bring it. It’s not like you’ve not done so before.”

“Fuck you,” Remus snapped, taking another drink.

“Bring it,” Sirius said. “I could use the distraction.”

Remus snorted and whiskey spilled down his chin.

“I’d apologize but that was exactly what I needed to make this evening better.”

“Because something happened between you and Snape?”

“What?”

“You barely looked at him tonight. Even now, you only let your eyes linger on him for a moment at longest.”

Sirius took a sip and swallowed. “Nothing happened between us. Nothing ever will happen. Is that understood?”

“I understand that there is severe denial where you and Snape are concerned.”

“Now you’re just being an ass,” Sirius said.

“As long as you’re not poking fun at me for fancying a woman thirteen years younger than me, I’ll be as much of an ass as I want, thank you very much,” Remus declared.

“Me? Poke fun? Never. I will deliver a mandatory shovel talk when things are more official, but otherwise, I wish you best of luck.”

Remus finished his glass. “I think I’ll turn in early,” he decided.

He bade goodnight to the others and headed upstairs.

Sirius debated pouring himself another glass as Tonks stood and approached him. She embraced him and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Siri,” she said before heading to the hearth.

While there were others in the hall and the parlor, only Sirius and Snape remained in the kitchen. Definitely in need of another drink.

Either that or to head to bed himself.

Or perhaps Snape will make his way home as well.

He opted for another drink.

“You’ve been off all night,” Snape said.

Whiskey sloshed in the glass as Sirius fought to catch it before it fell out of his hands.

“That would be exhibit D, now, or E. I’ve lost count.”

“Care for a drink?” Sirius offered.

“No,” Snape said. “I would like to know what’s gotten into you. You usually don’t avoid me. Rather it’s often the other way around.”

 _That’s true enough_ , he thought. “Less so, lately,” Sirius said, sitting across from him.

“Then add just a few minutes ago. The last time I’d been glared at like that, the Potters weren’t married yet.” Sirius slouched, refusing to meet Snape’s stare. “Are you and Lupin really that against Tonks and I finding commonalities?”

“Well, no…I guess we might’ve…misconstrued it as flirting.”

Snape cringed. “No. I don’t imagine having more than friendship with her. Crushes on Harrison Ford aside, our interests are not _that_ much aligned. I still remember the many bloody times she decided to be a little shit, transformed into me and then joke about brewing _shampoo_.”

 Sirius threw his head back and laughed.

“Once she intended to trick them into brewing cologne or perfume or something of the sort. Another time, she tried to get them to brew amortentia.”

“Firsties?”

“No…those were third years…”

“I’d apologize on her behalf, but I’m also oddly impressed.”

“There were a number of other times I caught her on that particular prank. Gave her detention each time. If I had to say…yeah, I think I prefer Potter’s sarcasm to all the pain Tonks caused when she attended school.”

“Well, she’s got Black blood, to be sure. When we’re not assholes, we’re shitheads.”

“That is toast worthy,” Snape said, smirking. “You should make that your family’s new coat of arms.”

“If we survive this war and I get exonerated, I will consider it. And our new emblem will be the deerhound.”

“That deerhound better be biting his rump otherwise it won’t make sense.”

Sirius’ shoulders shook from laughing. “How…how is this what we’ve decided for conversation? Dog butts on family shields?”

“I don’t know. Half of the time, having a conversation with you usually means going with the flow of it otherwise it will never make any sense.”

“I suppose so,” Sirius said.

“So, why were you avoiding me tonight?”

Sirius’ grin died. “It’s…I’d rather not discuss that. It’s a bit…personal.”

Snape arched a brow at that.

Recalling his abilities as a Legilimens, Sirius wondered if he was trying to read his mind. He didn’t think Snape would climb so low, but he really couldn’t say one way or another.

“All right,” Snape said at last. “I’ll let you keep your reasons to yourself until you feel you can trust me enough with the more personal details.”

He tugged a sleeve back to reveal a leather strapped watch wrapped around his wrist.

“I need to head back to the school anyway. I’ve been assigned to help babysit the brats who decide to go to Hogsmeade.”

“Look on the bright side: you’re obligated to go to Hogsmeade. Most of your students would _kill_ to _have_ to go to Hogsmeade.”

“So, you say, but I’m quite certain you and the rest of the Marauders went on unsupervised Hogsmeade trips anyway.” Snape smirked, tucking the chair back in. “At least I can go any time I want without having to use the secret passageways littered throughout the castle.”

“Touché.”

“I was unaware you knew what touché meant, Black.”

“My intelligence is not _that_ lacking,” Sirius quipped back. “Goodnight, Snape. At least _attempt_ to have fun tomorrow.”

“I make no promises. Goodnight.”

Sirius watched him leave.

Once he heard the whoosh of the floo, he stood to clear up and paused, seeing Remus, smirking at him.

“What?”

“I smelt denial and figured I’d see who needed a slap atop the head, only to almost walk in on you and Snape flirting. Are you really still going to keep up the pretense that nothing’s going on between you and him?”

Remus’ grin widened and Sirius felt his face flush.

“Shut up, Moony.”

#

Harry met Draco outside the Hog’s Head, a decrepit hole-in-the-wall pub of questionable repute and equally questionable sanitation.

Draco was scowling and as Harry approached, he wondered if it had less to do with his attitude and more to do with the smell.

“What’s that stench?” Harry asked.

“The owner has a goat,” Draco said, jerking his thumb over at the Hog’s Head.

“Most of it’s got to come from it. There’s a few places over on this side that might not care if they see a Gryffindor with a Slytherin, so it seemed the better option.”

“I’m certain there are Gryffindors who have managed friendships with Slytherins before.”

“Yes, but everyone at school knows we’re at each other’s throats. They’d likely think something off with us if they saw us outside of class, Remedial Potions, and the club.”

Harry hummed. It was a fair point.

“Well, in that case, what’s worth seeing on this side of Hogsmeade?”

Draco led him down the street. There was a rookery full of birds – owls, doves, crows, hawks, and pigeons all bred for magical work as familiars and mail carriers.

“The owls I get, but…”

“Hawks and crows are just as good as owls,” Draco said, stroking the feathers of a young crow. “Pigeons and doves can be trained, but they aren’t as reliable as carrion birds. They’re better as familiars than mail carriers. But only owls are allowed at school, which sucks because I wouldn’t mind having a hawk. Dad said that it’s more to protect the other animals that might be kept as pets as a hawk could attempt to eat the cats and frogs whereas the owls only hunt rodents.”

“Yeah, I can see that being a problem…and crows I guess would just eat everything in sight.”

“And more crows would gather around. When one witch or wizard has a crow, that crow will sometimes find other crows, let them know that they can get food somewhere and the next thing you know…”

“You’ve adopted a murder of ‘em,” Harry said.

“Exactly,” Draco said. “Can you imagine that? A flock of crows just swooping down to eat and drink with us at the tables whether we wanted them to or not and some of them not even tame, so…”

“And the reason we can’t have doves and pigeons, I guess, is the opposite?”

“Well, yes, and no. I can’t speak for the doves, but the pigeons will just end up milling about all over the place. Just look at London.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah. Good point. Granted, it used to be worse because people would feed them.”

Draco nodded.

The crow he was petting flew away to a higher branch as the caretaker entered with buckets of food floating behind him. The birds crowded around the wizard, eager for their feeding.

“Then there’s the problem of poop. At least at the owlery, the elves manage to keep it relatively clean. But then…” he waved around.

Harry examined the rookery now that the birds were all in one concentrated area. There were splotches of white all over the stone floor, metal cages, and wooden peg branches.

“So we manage our owls quite well. It still doesn’t smell as bad as the Hog’s Head did and we didn’t even go in. Besides, are you really that disgusted by poop?”

“Itself? No. The smell, a bit. But we’re used to the smell of bird. Not so much goat.”

They left a donation for the birds before they left, heading down to the next shop that caught their interest: a bookstore full of old, cracked tomes.

At first, Harry thought it was a used bookstore, but some of the titles were ones he’d never seen before! Many were first editions, a few were tomes that fell out of print.

The owner was an old, wizened witch with little hair left on her head. She had to be older than Dumbledore, given her age and how hunched she seemed.

She eyed them warily, frail fingers tightening around her wand.

A wizard – younger than the witch – greeted them jovially when they found him in the back of the shop.

“I’m afraid we don’t have anything new, lads,” he said. “But feel free to look around. Here,” he waved his wand, summoning two pairs of white gloves. “Use these if you decide to touch the books. Some of them are so old, the oils in your hands will damage the parchment.”

They thanked him and browsed the shop.

Harry thought he’d feel he was spending time with Hermione rather than Draco, but Draco was not nearly as enthusiastic as Hermione was.

Where Hermione might have acted more like she’d died and gone to heaven, Draco seemed to act as though they were under Madam Pince’s watchful, suspicious gaze without the lingering sensation of discomfort that brought.

“Look at this one,” he said. “ _A Treatise on the Ancient Magical practice of Heka_ ,” Draco recited, carefully pulling the book off the shelf.

“What’s Heka?”

“The ancient Egyptians referred to magic as Heka. It’s the spirit behind magic. In ancient times, magic was considered to be a living force, almost like a god. A lot of ancient spells invoke deities. Some still practice that.”

“Do you?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head.

“Perhaps my grandfather and great-grandfather did, but not my father and mother. My family is…well, not atheist, I suppose. Agnostic, maybe. It’s not really discussed.”

Harry hummed.

Not much different from the Dursleys, then.

Religion, belief in deities…it was all too similar to magic for them, he supposed, so it was never talked about, and if it were, it was with disdain toward those who did believe it.

He never cared for it, himself.

Draco turned the pages carefully. The parchment was dry and stiff, as though it’d not been open in ages. He closed it and set it back.

“Probably best not to touch something that fragile.”

“Yeah. Do you want to look around a little more or…”

Draco checked his watch. “I could eat. Hungry?”

Harry agreed.

They returned the gloves to the wizard, nodded their heads respectfully to the witch, though she continued to glare at them, and went on their way.

Harry followed Draco to a cafe named _The Gingerbread House_.

Harry snorted and, at Draco’s confused look, told him an abridged version of _Hansel and Gretel_.

“Muggles are weird.”

“I’m going to assume that the owner’s a muggle born,” Harry said.

“Half blood, actually,”

“With a muggle background,” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re really that nervous to enter the place?”

“I don’t want to end up in a pie. Or be served firstie stew.”

“I promise you won’t be tricked into cannibalism. Or be canabalized yourself.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry said, laughing. “There’s a documented case of a barber-surgeon back in the eighteenth century who actually killed people and his accomplice fed their customers the bodies so to get rid of the bodies.”

“Were they like us?”

“Not sure…I don’t think so…”

“Then stop your whining and get your ass in there. You’re being ridiculous. I thought Gryffindors were all brave and adventurous.”

Harry stared at him. “Are you questioning my honor?”

“Honor? I said nothing of the sort. I’m questioning your courage.”

“Courage and intelligence don’t always go hand in hand. I’ve been in enough life threatening situations that I know that if I dare to go into a place in a wizarding village named _The Gingerbread House_ , there’s a chance I could get eaten, a chance I could be the one doing the eating of human flesh, or that it’s a cover for evil witches who would frighten even Voldemort himself. And that’s if Voldemort didn’t try to recruit them first…”

“You’re not serious?”

“No. I’m not, I’m trying to be funny, but apparently my sense of humor is different from your own.”

“Forgive me for not finding cannibalism a reason to be humorous.”

“I thought Slytherins appreciated dark humor.”

“Some, yes, I’m sure. I’m not one of them. Come on, Potter. I won’t let anyone eat you.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Harry said. “I won’t be happy if you run off again like you did in our first year.”

“If I recall, a wraith was drinking unicorn blood! That’s terrifying! Even the dog ran. And in my defense, I thought you ran with me and the dog.”

Draco pulled the door open. The smell of fresh bread called to them. “I’ll let you hex me if you really don’t like it here.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Harry said, entering the café.


	8. Chapter 8

The owner of the Gingerbread House was indeed a Muggle Born who thought it a hilarious joke to name a café “the Gingerbread House.”

The joke might fall short on purebloods, but muggleborns and halfbloods liked the humor of the name, which usually, if not always, gained a bit of a chuckle and several jokes concerning cannibalistic witches.

“What? No roasted baby liver?”

“I’ll have brain and heart stew.”

“I’m curious, this here, is it _really_ cranberry juice or can we expect it to be blood?”

“Sorry, we’ve just run out of gallbladders.”

Draco had not been amused at the repertoire Harry engaged in with their waiter, trading one dark humored quip after another:

“Who wrote the cookbook?”Harry asked. “Hannibal Lector?”

The waiter smirked. “Mrs. Nellie Lovett, actually.”

“In that case, I’ll have a meat pie.”

“Darn,” the waiter said, snapping her fingers. “We just ran out of meat for the meat pies.”

“I guess I’ll have to settle for pasties, then.”

“They’re never like this with me,” Draco said, frowning once the waiter was out of sight. “And I thought you hated the attention.”

“We’re making jokes about cannibalism,” Harry said, shrugging. “And there are more muggle references than you can hope to understand. Though, that might change now that you’re with me.”

“Should I be scared?”

“You should be terrified,” Harry promised. “You’ll likely be corrupted and driven to engage your inner Gryffindor.”

Draco snorted. “Oh, the horror,” he said. “Whatever will I do?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive. At worst, you’re sense of humor will be better.”

“My sense of humor is fine. You just never saw it that way.”

“Given you were mocking me and my friends, and people I cared about, it was hard to find you funny back then.”

“And now?”

“I know you’re just a sarcastic little shit.”

“Last I checked, I was still taller than you, Potter,” Draco said. “So if anyone has the right to jibe about height….”

“Ron already does,” Harry said. “Have you seen the two of us beside each other? It’s ridiculous. Hermione, Ginny, and I only come up to his shoulders.”

Draco hummed. “Okay, you have a point. He’s one of the tallest blokes in our year.”

“If not _the_ tallest.”

“That’s fair,” Draco agreed. “Even I just come up to his chin.”

Their waiter returned with their food. Harry grinned. “I’m not going to find a toe in here, am I?”

“Let’s hope not,” she snorted. “Otherwise I’m going to have to have a talk with the chef about our meat grinder’s quality.”

“Enough with the cannibalism jokes,” Draco snapped. “They’re getting old.”

Harry grinned and agreed to desist, shifting the conversation to Quiditch – favorite professional teams and players, who would win the first match of the school year (Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin), and so on.

Both spoke of Quiditch with reverence and jubilation, as though it was a spiritual path that they were still entranced by rather than a sport.

When it came whether Gryffindor or Slytherin would win the Quiditch cup this year, of course they snapped good natured threats at each other. In the end, they made a bet.

The loser would wear the girl’s uniform on the last day of school complete with makeup and jewelry.

If neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin won, they’d both wear the girl’s uniform.

Once they’ve shook on it, they shifted topic to how they’re doing in mastering occlumency. Harry told him of the dream he had.

As he described it, Draco picked at his food.

“It sounds like something in the Department of Mysteries,” Draco said. “I don’t know what, exactly, but my dad brought me around there a few times when I was young. I got lost once and was traumatized by what I encountered, so I refused to go back, but I remember some of those rooms.”

Harry decided not to press further.

“Come up with a stronger wall or block,” Draco suggested. “You’ve never been there, save in the dream, right?” Harry nodded. “Then I don’t think it was a normal…drift of thought,” he continued.

“You think it might’ve come from Vol—”

“Yes,” Draco interrupted. “And really, Harry, you need to be careful where you say that name. Not everyone is going to really accept your nonchalance of it. And, to be honest…”

“Well, I’m not calling him You-Know-Who,” Harry said, frowning.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Riddle,” he decided. “His real name, the name his mother gave him, is Tom Riddle.”

Draco lowered his gaze to his plate and scoffed.

“What?”

“For such a powerful wizard, his given name is so ordinary.”

“His birth father was muggle.”

“That would be why it’s so ordinary, then, despite how…how…”

Harry leaned forward, reaching for Draco’s hand.

“He’s not powerful, Draco. He’s evil. He has no sense of right and wrong, and he doesn’t care. He’s a sociopath. He enjoys causing pain. He uses fear to elevate himself to seem powerful, but he’s not. I promise you, he’s not.”

Draco listened, staring at Harry’s hand over his own.

“How do you know?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Harry’s.

The hand moved away, but he dared not reach for it, though he missed its weight and warmth.

“How can you be sure he’s not as powerful as he seems?”

“Because he’s afraid of Dumbledore. If he really was as powerful as he would have everyone believe, he wouldn’t be afraid of an old man. And he wouldn’t have come after me when I was a baby, either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I have to,” Harry admitted. “Otherwise, I don’t know if I’d be able to face him. I’ve faced him almost every year since I started school. And if I give into any fear, I know he’d kill me, so I can’t afford to feel fear, and that’s probably one of the reasons why I’m so affected by Dementors.”

“I’m sorry for making a joke of that,” Draco said. “I shouldn’t have mocked you for that. Dementors are extremely scary and I was just trying to mask my own fear in my own way. It was stupid…”

“Second year through last year had been rather intense, so I can’t really be angry that you needed an outlet, but I’d have rather it not be through tormenting me or my friends.”

“I know. I don’t even know how to begin apologizing for…for all of it. I…” he sighed. “Will your friends even accept apologies from me?”

Harry hummed.

“Hermione might,” he said. “Ron…Ron can be rather stubborn, but given time, he’ll find it in him to forgive you. He’s just overprotective. With what Hermione goes through being a muggle born and me given…my relatives.”

Draco nodded. He did get that feel from Ron Weasley.

“I’ve a lot to make up for,” Draco said. “And I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but…well…I never wanted us to be enemies or rivals. I wanted to be friends from the moment I met you.”

Harry hummed. “I’m afraid you reminded me a bit too much of my cousin for that when we met.”

“You don’t get along with him?”

“No. Well, not really. I don’t know anymore. Maybe we can overcome the shit his dad did to me, but I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends, Dudley and I.”

Draco took a bite to give himself a little time to figure out how best to respond. He swallowed.

“Am I really too much like your cousin?”

“Not anymore. Things have changed drastically and his type of bullying was more physically beating up kids. You don’t incite physical altercations.”

“Well, I can’t say that,” Draco said, blushing. “I had used spells against others before.”

“Right. But have you ever smacked someone with a fist? Or kicked them when they’re down?”

“Ah. No. Oh, gods, I was horrid…”

“I think we all have moments we look back on with horror and embarrassment,” Harry said. Draco smiled.

“Like when you and Ron drove a flying car to school and crashed it into the Whomping Willow?”

“Hey, now,” Harry laughed. “That was Ron’s idea. I originally wanted to just wait by the car for his parents to return and then figure it out from there. Granted, he flew the car before, earlier that summer, with Fred and George.”

“Seriously?”

“They broke me out of my aunt and uncle’s house. They were going to keep me locked away that year because one of your ex-house elves ruined a huge work deal my uncle was working on.”

“Dobby?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to say, Dobby’s a little weird. I miss him, to be honest.”

“Well, he works at Hogwarts now. I know this because Hermione was all about House Elf Liberation last year. She would knit them hats and scarves and socks just for them to wear and gain independence.”

“House Elves aren’t like us. They don’t see their situation the same way we would.”

“I know, I know, but…even so. She called her House Elf Liberation thing spew.”

Draco snorted, shoulders shaking.

“Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I think I still have the badge somewhere. And…I think she made me secretary. She didn’t give me and Ron a choice. We were her best friends. We had to join. I think she eventually gave up since no one felt nearly as passionate about it as she did. I thought she lost her mind, so did Ron. Sometimes we wonder. Are you okay?”

Draco nodded, but he was laughing too hard that it hurt.

#

Hogsmeade weekends weren’t always a burden.

Severus usually enjoyed them.

The brats _usually_ kept out of trouble, so he rarely was sent for. And even if he was asked to come, he could be certain it was at Zonko’s or Honeydukes.

Of course, incidents at Zonko’s tended to end with a reminder of the list of banned items and making sure that the students there weren’t getting anything that would cause teachers heart attacks and aneurisms.

Severus half thought that at least half of the brats who walked in there transfigured their items to hide the contraband.

Today, though, was a rather calm day.

 So far, the noon hour had passed and no one had called for him to break up this ensuing fight or other. It allowed him some peace in his corner of the Three Broomsticks with a mug of butterbeer and the essays he really wanted to get out of the way so he could hand them out on Monday.

Every so often, he’d glance up, stretching his wrist as his hand cramped, and examine the area.

Several students were crowded around tables, eating, drinking, and laughing. So far, no misdemeanors were being committed and every so often, his gaze would meet a student’s.

Their eyes would widen comically and they’d turn away. He remembered a time he’d have done that same thing. Except the teacher in question was Minerva McGonagall.

Blasted woman used to terrify him.

Oh, he respected her, admired her, even. Since becoming cohorts rather than student and teacher, he was less afraid of her, but there were the times he wondered if he should fear her any less…

“Professor?”

He turned to Granger.

“I was wondering when we’d have another club meeting soon?”

“Soon enough,” he assured her. “I’ll be sending owls when I have a time set aside.”

“Okay,” she said. “Also, I was asked to deliver this.”

She held out a letter. He glared at it. “Are you an owl, now, Granger?”

“I don’t know why they didn’t send it directly, Sir,” she said. “I just know it came to me instead. I thought it’d be faster to just hand it in person than to send another owl.”

She set the envelope on the table and left. Severus glared at it, daring it to explode or something equally horrid, just to get under his skin.

Of course, it would have happened immediately on arrival to Granger if it were really nefarious.

He cast a couple tests on it to make sure it was not a prank or a bomb.

Satisfied it was safe, he picked it up.

He recognized the handwriting, which didn’t help him relax as much as it could have. Still, he tore the envelope open and pulled the folded parchment out.

_Severus,_

_I was wondering if you would meet me for dinner tonight._

_I know it’s impossible for me to leave the house, but I wouldn’t mind having you over for a couple hours._

_Besides, there are things I want to talk about with you: mostly to apologize._

_My friends and I were gits, myself most of all._

_But I think most of this would be best said face to face._

_I promise this isn’t a joke. It’s not a prank._

_I’m not going to do anything to you if you decide to come._

_You’ve every right to refuse._

_Even so, I hope to see you tonight anyway._

_If not, well, at least there’ll be leftovers._

_Yours truly,_

_Sirius Black_

He was suspicious before.

Given who sent the letter, even if it hadn’t been cursed or jinxed or anything, he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel any less paranoid.

Severus glared at the paper, probably looking gloomier or nastier than usual as he soon had at least a table in every direction around him suddenly empty and no one daring to come near.

He wasn’t going to get any more work done.

Not here.

So, he packed up the essays into his bag and left the Three Broomsticks to walk, perhaps think of what he’ll do. All in all, he wasn’t _obligated_ to have dinner with Black.

At the same time, it might really be a truce.

And if it were, well…

Perhaps he had allowed his hate for the Marauders to overcome him too long. But if it was another prank, then it would be the last Sirius Black would ever play.

#

Sirius cast a couple extra charms on the letter, still distrustful of it.

Even if it was, in essence, a white flag, he couldn’t say for sure that Snape wasn’t planning something.

“Will you relax, already?” Remus snapped, flipping through the _Prophet_.

“I can’t relax,” he said. “What if it’s a trick?”

“Snape wouldn’t dare. You’re under Dumbledore’s protection now.”

“That didn’t stop him from getting you fired.”

“I _quit_ ,” Remus said. “And only because Severus, while it was harsh and uncalled for, had been right.”

“About what? You missed one bloody potion.”

“And nearly killed Harry, Ron, and Hermione because of it. The risk was just too great. And then add to that Dumbledore received howlers all that summer because of my condition…”

Sirius glared at him.

“You really need to get over yourself, mate. So you got fleas and have a need to howl at the moon once a month.”

“And bite things. The urge to bite and to eat is what bothers me most.”

Sirius ignored that.

True though it was, there was no reason to let Remus know he’d cede.

“Well, then, if it’s cursed or charmed or what not, I can’t reveal it. You give it a shot.”

He pushed the parchment toward Remus, who glanced at it.

He cast a couple complex revealing spells wordlessly.

“It’s clean, Pads,” he assured him. “It’s likely the truth. In which case, would it be so bad to talk about how the two of you can get along?”

“Well, no,” Sirius admitted. He did hope it was a white flag. Maybe then, perhaps, he could begin to come to grips with the emotions he held for Snape.

Particularly the…amorous emotions he kept feeling.

“Perhaps consider cooking something for dinner,” Remus suggested. “I know you’ve been getting better at that and it’d be a good gesture.”

True.

He’d grown bored, so Sirius asked Molly to teach him to cook.

It was either that, read, masturbate, or change into Padfoot and rush all over the house in hopes of letting out some pent up energy.

Cooking, at least, gave him something to do that didn’t bore him easily.

And it was a very practical skill to have.

It wasn’t much different from potions, all in all.

Except, potions are usually for rainy days, food was for _all_ the days, regardless of the weather.

“You’re not suggesting I cook for Snape, are you?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be, but it’d be a good gesture, don’t you think? Show that you’re willing to be amiable while you talk with him about…whatever it is he wants to talk to you about. And if he isn’t hungry, then you’ve got leftovers for later.”

Sirius scratched the back of his head.

“Fine, I guess that wouldn’t hurt.”

Remus grinned. “Need me to grab you anything from the market?”

“Not that I know, but let me see what I have here that I can make without sending you on an errand. If it can be avoided, then all the better. But if I do need you to go, I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds fair. I’ll be in the parlor. Holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With that, Remus left Sirius in the kitchen.

Sirius flicked his wand at the cupboard, summoning the individual items he had while two cookbooks flipped to the pages that matched what he had available to work with, giving him options.

#

Remus almost sat down when the owl arrived. He spied it halfway in the chair and went to let it in before it tapped it’s beak against the window pane.

He took the letter and opened it, stroking the bird’s feathers.

_Got the letter to Snape._

_I hope you know what you’re doing, Professor Lupin._

_(Stop it. I know you’re thinking of rebuking me for still calling you “professor.” You’ll always be “professor” to us and you know it.)_

_Good luck!_

_~ Hermione_

Remus chuckled, smiling.

Hopefully neither Sirius nor Severus would find out.

If they did, Remus would likely not live to see them get together. Whether Sirius and Severus knew it, they’d always been…

Well…

There had always been something between them that neither wanted to admit was there.

He was only trying to help them unstick their heads from up their arses long enough to see it and acknowledge it. Perhaps it’d help some of the remaining animosity between them.

As long as he didn’t find them in bed together, he’d consider it a win.

(Okay, that _would_ be a win, but not one he needed to witness…)


	9. Chapter 9

Severus weighed the bottle of Ogden’s in his hand.

If all went well, it’d be drunk. If not, well, he’d likely use it to club Black over the head, then head home and drink it anyway just to ease his fury.

Not the most congenial plan, perhaps, but a plan nevertheless.

He stepped through the fireplace to Grimauld just as the clock struck seven.

He could smell dinner still cooking in the kitchen and ventured that way, his steps cautious.

Black was crouched by the oven, hands in large oven mittens as he pulled out a roasted hen. The skin was golden brown and glistening with grease.

Severus had doubts at first, but now that he could smell it, those doubts were starting to dissipate. Black turned to him and smiled. He had to remind himself that he was here for a peace offering and it would be best if he resisted any feelings of wanting to punch that smirk off his face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said. “I had a little trouble figuring out what to make, so…”

“That’s fine,” Severus said. “To be honest, I was surprised to receive your letter.”

“My…I didn’t send a letter.”

Severus frowned. He set the bottle down and pulled it out from pocket.

“This has your signature, Black.”

Sirius took it and read it.

“Well?”

“But…I received a very similar letter. From _you_.”

“I would know if I wrote you a letter, Black.”

“And I would remember if I wrote _you_ , so…I mean, yes this…it’s…Remus!” Sirius called, catching the werewolf before he could make his escape. “Snape said he got a letter from me. Now, I know I didn’t write him, so…maybe…”

Remus turned to them, grinning nervously. “Well, about those letters.”

Severus ground his teeth, realizing who really penned the notes. “Lupin…”

“You didn’t!” Black snapped.

“And if I did?” Lupin asked, stepping backwards from them. “The two of you have been running about each other in circles for years! I thought you’d like the shove.”

“Where would you ever get that idea?” Severus asked.

Him and Black?

True, they were _beginning_ to get along a little better, but that didn’t mean that they ever…how did he put it? “Run about in circles around each other for years.”

He was about to laugh, turning to Black, expecting him to seem equally amused as he felt, but Black had paled and his mouth had curved downward into an angry frown. He did not look amused at all, and Severus was certain that this would be something to laugh at.

“I didn’t mean it to be cruel, Pads,” Remus said. “But I think you’d benefit telling him, even if it doesn’t work out the way you’d hope.”

Severus looked from Lupin to Black.

_Oh._

“Well, I’m off. Have fun. Or at least try to have fun. And I’ve got a date of my own, so…bye.” Lupin apparated. Severus began to wonder if he ought to retreat as well.

Sirius sighed. “I am sorry about him. He usually doesn’t…I wouldn’t have thought he’d dare trick us like this. You, maybe, but me…”

“Black,” Severus said. “Tell me what he meant.” He might know, but he also wasn’t going to assume. He still could be wrong. Black faced Severus then averted his gaze.

“Look, after everything I’ve done, I do understand if you don’t want anything to do with me…I might be in love with you, but I don’t know for sure. I can be satisfied with friendship, even just as…whatever it really is we are if not friends. You’ve no reason to accept, after all.”

Severus rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. If it weren’t for him seeing it and hearing it from Sirius Black himself, Severus would never have believed it.

“Let’s start with this dinner. You did make it and I came for that, after all.”

Sirius barely looked at him after that, but agreed. The atmosphere felt hesitant, as though neither of them were entirely sure what to do next. Severus certainly didn’t.

He always thought Black hated him.

He certainly didn’t feel much for him, either, even as far as loathing him from time to time. Severus’ memories of Sirius weren’t good.

Even now, though imprisonment had sobered him, Severus still saw Sirius as the rebellious braggart and bully that he’d been as a teenager.

True, they’d been getting along better, finding that they had more in common than either of them realized. Even so, there was one startling difference. Sirius, even after Azkaban, had remained beautiful.

It was a different sort of beauty now. Less roguish charm and more…he’d dare not say aristocratic, but that was fairly close.

Perhaps vampiric in an Anne Rice’s _Vampire Chronicles_ sort of way.

Severus had the unfortunate fate of resembling his father.

An unfortunately large nose, narrow of frame – narrower from the stress of being a spy and a teacher both – and the hideously limp hair that refused to stop gleaming in such a way that it resembled an appearance of being unwashed.

(In reality, when his hair was unwashed, it tended to cling together in oily clumps.)

He also remained pale in his own way.

Since childhood, he preferred to keep to the shade, having hated how he’d burn and freckle, then at school, it was more to hide from Black and Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew – and any other tormentors he had.

Now, he spent the majority of that time in the dungeons of Hogwarts, making sure his wards in Slytherin didn’t cause too much trouble, or teaching them and their other classmates while hoping he’d not need to stop another exploding cauldron or vanish an acidic compound that ruined his classroom, or grading papers and homework assignments.

Over all, even with everything they had in common, Severus couldn’t fathom why Sirius Black would fancy _him_.  Or even admit to being in love with him.

It didn’t seem even real.

Severus half wanted to pinch himself in case he was dreaming.

“I am sorry that Remus thought this would be a good idea. It really wasn’t.”

Severus stared at Black and said nothing, deciding to hear what Black had to say.

“This sort of thing…it was more something James would do. Or Lily.”

Severus hummed his agreement. He could see Lily doing something like this.

“Or even both. It’s not…I guess since they aren’t, he figured they’d agree with him and decided to…I don’t know…take a leaf from their tree?”

“I think you mean page from their book, but it works,” Severus said. “And if we’re going to discuss emotions, I’m going to need to be at least a little bit sloshed.”

Black chuckled. “That might help us both.”

Severus stood and fetched two small tumbler glasses and the whiskey.

Once the glasses were filled, he handed one to Black and took his place at the other end of the table.

They had a glass and were beginning a second when Severus finally had a question he could articulate. “Might I ask how long you’ve…felt this way for me?”

“A few weeks, now,” Black said. “Remus thinks it’d been longer than that but it’s only recently become a conscious thought rather than subconscious. Or some such rubbish.”

Severus wouldn’t say “rubbish.”

Most romances begin as a subconscious thought of some sort, unregistered by the person thinking them, until they were mature enough to register the thoughts and emotions for what they are.

“I can accept a few weeks better than something that might’ve been brewing and ignored for longer,” he said. “But why me? Wouldn’t you prefer…I don’t know…Shacklebolt?”

Black snorted and covered his mother with his hand to stop the stream of whiskey threatening to spill from his mouth.

“Kingsley? Well…no. After my arrest and imprisonment, I’ve sworn away from those who work at the DMLE. If they had just done a proper investigation, so much would be different.”

“And what good is there in dwelling on what could be different if for one detail?” Severus asked. “What happened had happened. Neither of us can change it. Not without risking erasing ourselves from existence, anyway. Besides, we must learn to move forward without the past dragging us down. We’ve both had such horrid things happen to both of us. And we’ve seen things that never should have happened come to fruition. But they did, despite everyone’s best efforts.”

Black drummed his fingers against the table.

“All in all,” Severus continued. “Everyone must make do with what we have and the time that is offered to us. So, that short tangent aside, explain to me why you think you’re in love with me.”

Black, at last, met his gaze. “If this has to do with your appearance, I’m not the sort to care for that. I care more about the personality of a person. Sure, there were people I dated who were good looking.”

 _As me_ was, humbly and thankfully, left out.

“But that wasn’t why I dated them. They were good people who knew themselves, respected themselves enough to not take any crap from others who might seek to discredit them…and I guess I think you might have made that improvement.”

Severus had not. He was quite certain he’d not.

“Or maybe it has to do with that we’ve both gone through shit too young.”

He could agree. With his job as a spy…sometimes he felt he’d fare better in Azkaban. As for Black, well, he paid his dues and then some. Then there was the matter of both of them had lost their best friends to a murder’s paranoia.

“Or I’m just looking to someone who might…who might want me as I am and can see through my bullshit.”

“And you believe that is me.”

“I don’t know. I know I _want it_ to be you.”

“For now.”

He could see him hesitate a moment. Black nodded his agreement.

So, how did he want to pursue this?

Should he see how far it would go?

It wasn’t like he could take Black out on a date or vice versa given that Black is still a hunted escaped convict.

He said as much and Black chuckled.

“That does make things a little more difficult, doesn’t it?” He said. “Well, until my name is cleared and if you’re amenable to it, I’m not against a strictly sexual relationship.”

Neither was Severus, but being in love with someone made sex far more complicated than when it was just a fuck-buddy scenario. He wouldn’t admit aloud that the idea sent a pleasant shiver down his spine or that his cock twitched at the idea.

“Say I agreed to that arrangement,” Severus asked, never breaking his gaze from Black’s. “What rules or limitations would we agree on?”

Black swallowed. “I’m not interested in BDSM, Snape.”

“I never said you were,” Severus said. “But that doesn’t mean either of us would want to be put in a situation were not entirely comfortable with. For instance, there are a number of things that I would not be comfortable doing, even in private with a partner. If I were to agree to a strictly sexual relationship, Black, I want to be certain that my own limits would be respected. And that yours are honored and respected in turn.”

Black breathed slowly, as though trying to keep calm. “I don’t bottom.”

“Fine. I’m all right with either being on top or bottom.”

“I don’t like being restrained.”

“Same.”

“Or hit, even if it’s just play. I don’t…I’ve too many bad memories regarding that.”

“It’s all right. I don’t like being hit either for, as it seems, very similar reasons.”

They stared at each other, as though waiting for more limitations to be set before them.

Black stood and approached Severus. Severus reached for his wand, in case of attack – more a reflex than anything else. Black sat down beside him.

Severus could see how wide his pupils had blown. His own eyes noted how dry and smooth Black’s lips were. Though neither of them broke eye contact, Severus noted how Black’s hand found his – the one _not_ presently holding onto his wand, ready to fight if required.

There was an unspoken question being formed, but Severus could only guess what it might be.

And guessing wasn’t going to be enough.

“What are you doing?” Severus asked.

Black flushed. “I’m…trying to gather some courage to kiss you.”

Well, he didn’t have to guess now.

Severus uncurled his fingers from their grip on his wand and pulled Black in, pressing their mouths together. He could feel Black shudder under his fingers as they ran over his arms.

The kiss broke.

“Can I suck your cock?” Black asked between kisses he pressed to Severus’ jaw and neck.

“Not here.”

“My bedroom, then?”

“Yes. Yes, that will work.”

Black stood and grabbed Severus’ wrist, pulling him up out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Secluded at last, Severus found himself pressed against the door. He half thought he was dreaming it all as Black slid down to his knees in front of him, pushing the robes aside and tugging trousers and pants down to Severus’ knees.

Black gripped the base of Severus’ cock and stroked slowly a bit.

Severus leaned back against the door, watching Black slide his mouth over his cock. Warm, wet heat enveloped his member. Severus groaned, grabbing a fistful of Sirius’ hair.

He let go immediately, slapping his palm against the door.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

Black bobbed his head as he sucked. One hand held Severus’ cock while the other kneaded at his sack. Severus cursed again as Black moaned, voice vibrating around Severus. Liquid heat pooled at the base of his abdomen.

“Gonna…fuck…close…”

Black sucked harder, moaning again. Severus gasped, cursing, as he came. His hips snapped and Black released his genitalia so to pin him to the door, drinking Severus’ seed as greedily as one dying of thirst would water.

Severus fought to catch his breath, trying to recall the last time an orgasm had been as satisfying. Black licked him clean before standing back up.

“My turn,” Severus said, moving to switch places with Black

“No.” Black pulled him to the bed. “I want to fuck you, Severus. I want to see you come again with my cock inside you. Please, Severus? Can I fuck you?”

Severus weighed the options before him. “Yes.”

#

“Longbottom!” Snape barked, “Fix your stance!  You’re going to duel, not dance!”

Neville did so, planting his feet a little wider apart.

“Better.”

He moved on to the next student falling short of a proper stance for a duel.

The desks and chairs had been shrunk and moved to a box on Snape’s desk so to make room for the practice duel.

Everyone was lined up in two rows, facing each other, waiting for Snape to shout the command to begin dueling.

“Today, you are to practice offensive and defensive spells and charms. You’ll duel three rounds, fifteen minutes per round.”

He flicked his wand and a timer hung over them.

“Face your opponent,” Snape ordered.

Harry turned to Seamus, who winked. Harry bit back a snort and waited for the command.

“Begin.”

The room rang with spells being cast and deflected, one by one.

Time became irrelevant as they dueled, only paused every fifteen minutes to listen to Snape’s criticism as if he were a drill sergeant rather than a teacher.

Harry bit back a laugh at the image of Snape in camouflage clothing, mottled green and brown.

“Something amusing, Potter?”

“No, Sir,” he said, trying to school his face to not betray him. But it sent him into another bout of barely concealed laughter.

Unconvinced, Snape glowered at him.

“I’ll explain later, Professor,” he said.

Snape moved on and Harry cleared his throat, pushing the thought aside, ignoring the strange looks Hermione and Ron were sending him as they continued.

As promised, at the end of the hour, he explained the image that came to him.

Snape’s mouth quirked, as though he was about to smile. “Take care I don’t make you and the others do push ups, then,” he said. “Get out.”

Harry did so, snickering.

Ron looked at him as though he’d grown another head and Hermione arched a brow.

Draco leaned against the wall nearby, frowning at a slip of parchment in his hand.

“What was so funny earlier?” she asked.

Recounting the thought once more, Hermione laughed madly.

Ron stared at them confused. “What’s a drill sergeant?”

“Muggle thing,” Hermione giggled. “I’ll explain when I’m not laughing so hard…oh, ow…my face.” She rubbed her cheeks, massaging the muscles there.

Harry went over to Draco as Hermione gained enough composure to explain the humor to Ron. Draco looked at him briefly, then back down, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. “Bad day?”

Draco swallowed. “You could say that,” he said.

He handed Harry the parchment he’d been staring at. Harry took it, glancing at the contents. Some of the words were blotchy from water droplets – tears? – so it was a bit hard to read:

_…You’ll floo home for the holiday. Sooner you’re home, the sooner our Lord will be in a better mood…_

_…He’s been quite wrathful lately…_

_…Much to discuss…_

_…It’s your duty, so I do not want to hear any complaints or whines about how much you hate the situation, Draco. You will do as you’re expected…_

“You can’t go back,” Harry declared. “They can’t make you.”

Draco glared at him. He looked around, as though searching, then grabbed Harry’s wrist, pulling him away from the hall into a small crevice of a corridor.

“I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. They’ll expect me to come home and…and…I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Harry hissed. “Draco, come with me to Grimauld Place. You don’t have to go home. You don’t have to do what they expect you to do.”

“My occlumency isn’t where it needs to be in order for me to escape him yet.”

“But you’re better at occlumency than I am.”

“So?”

“So if you go back, I might have another dream where he’s raping you. And when that…in those dreams, or visions, Draco, I’m _him_. I know it’s not _me_ , but I still _feel_ it and I know how much he enjoys hurting you. Fuck it, Draco, I hate experiencing what he feels! I hate the way I can _feel_ how it arouses him to see you in pain and how terrified you are when he…”

“Then drink some dreamless sleep potion!” Draco shouted. “I don’t need to know that you _know_ what he’s doing, Potter!”

Harry slammed his fist against the wall. His knuckles jarred and ached, but he didn’t care. He exhaled, ignoring the pain in his hand. Draco stared at him, silent.

Harry lowered his hand. He wasn’t bleeding, but it was scratched from the stone and the force.

“Draco, come with me to Grimauld Place,” he said again. “Please come with me. Draco, I can’t keep seeing him hurt you.” Harry stepped backward. “At least think about it.”

Draco took his hurt hand in his own. “Harry, why does it matter to you? We’re not friends.”

“Yes, we are,” he said. “We are friends now. And I protect my friends any way I can.”

Draco sighed. “What if I…would prefer something _more_ than friendship?” he asked. “What if I want you to…to be my…well, for lack of a better word, my boyfriend?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What? How long have you thought you liked me that way?”

“Since we met,” Draco admitted. “Fuck, I thought you were so cute when we met at Madam Malkin’s. I know you thought I was an arrogant prick and, okay, you were right, but I…even though I had thought those feelings had gone away, I might…half of the shit I pulled was just to get you to look at me because even you glaring at me was something even though it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Draco couldn’t or wouldn’t look him in the eye. His cheeks burned pink and he worried his lower lip between his teeth.

Harry thought of his previous partners.

They were older boys, all of them, and Harry regretted now how he had manipulated those relationships, using the tricks of his “trade” to get what he wanted from them. It was the only useful thing about his fame that he seemed to care about or even like.

But this was so very different. This was an innocent, genuine confession and he didn’t know how to handle something so…pure.

Well, perhaps not exactly pure, but purer than what he was used to.

“You don’t want me for a boyfriend,” Harry said. “I never was a good one in the past to the guys I’ve dated before.”

“Can you say the same of them?”

No. He couldn’t. Harry swallowed and shook his head. “Draco, those guys weren’t interested in me. Most people aren’t.”

“I am,” Draco said. “And I know your past. Maybe not as well as you know mine, but I know. You told me what happened to you. You trusted me enough to tell me that, even though it’s never going to be something anyone would want to admit.”

Harry glanced at his hand still held in Draco’s. He lifted his gaze up to him.

Draco still blushed and dared not look at him back.

“Look at me,” Harry demanded. Draco obeyed. “I’ve never been public about my past relationships. It’s hard to be because, well, it’s me. The _Daily Prophet_ likes to use me as fodder – especially last year during the tournament. Does that bother you?”

“No.”

For a moment, Harry thought about what else he could say.

His very being thrummed as he tried to think of what to do or say next. There was truly nothing that came to his mind except to step closer to Draco.

He raised his free hand up to curl gently around the back of Draco’s neck and pull him down to meet him halfway.

Draco kissed him back, moving his hands to Harry’s waist.

Their groins pressed together deliciously and Harry shuddered, wondering about the last time he’d been fucked. It was before the Dementors showed up, he recalled that much.

He didn’t recall which of his clients it was, but Petunia was off with a friend on a lady’s retreat and Dudley had been spending the weekend with Peirce. Vernon dropped him off at a house a town over.

He’d not been able to get it up since the intervention. It still hurt to remember the way Molly had wept. He was ignorant and cruel that day, defensive of every word they spoke.

And then Dumbledore had went to the fireplace and allowed Petunia threw.

Seeing the sorrow on his aunt’s face was what got through to him on how horrid what happened to him was. She wept as badly as Molly on seeing him and she embraced him, whispering how sorry she was.

For everything.

What everything meant, he didn’t know.

It unnerved him.

But now…

Now…

His cock twitched and he pressed closer, rubbing against Draco and feeling him harden and respond in like. He shivered again as Draco moaned in his mouth, pulling him just a little closer.

 _I forgot how good it feels_ , Harry thought, rubbing their cocks together through their clothes.

Then they were pulled apart. Harry’s back slammed into the stone wall as Umbridge stepped closer, pocketing her wand.

“What have we here?”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong, professor,” Draco said. “Just kissing.”

Umbridge looked from him to Harry, plainly unconvinced by the half-lie. Kissing, yes, that was plain. No denying that.

But who wanted to admit they’d been in the middle of some very delicious frottage?

“I think that we can be wiser, children,” she said. “I will be having a word with your heads of house. Were it up to me, you two would have detention and fifty points each. As it is, I’ll just have to hope that Professors Snape and McGonagall are sensible enough to agree. Off to your houses, now.”

They did so, heading their separate ways as Umbridge went to speak with Snape. Probably about what she caught them doing as if it were such a huge scandal!

Still, Harry found the nearest loo and locked himself in one of the stalls. He cast a silencing charm and leaned against the door, dropping his bag and fumbling with his belt and trousers. Once free, Harry spit in his hand and ran the palm over his cock. He groaned, slumping against the door.

He shut his eyes and imagined that his hand was Draco’s. Imagined that they were someplace where they wouldn’t be interrupted and where they could explore each other.

In his mind, he’d run his hands over Draco’s torso and abdomen. He’d kiss his nipples and tease them till they were stiff and sensitive. He’d kiss a trail down that chest and abdomen, take the band of Draco’s pants in his teeth as he pulled them down his legs, watching Draco whine and hiss and moan as he continued to tease.

He pinched his own nipple through his shirt, bucking in his own hand as he continued to think of what else he could do to Draco.

Perhaps he’d suck him. Or rim him. In his mind, Draco was open to both, wanton and eager.

Harry moved the fingers that had been teasing his chest to his mouth, sucking each into his mouth, getting them well and wet before curling them around his testicles. Harry gasped and cursed, picking up pace around his cock and chasing his impending orgasm.

He was glad he had put up a silencing charm as he cried out his pleasure.

His legs shook under him and he moved to sit on the toilet before they gave out. Harry removed his glasses, holding them limply in a shaking hand.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: gang rape later in the chapter. Proceed with caution

Severus drummed his fingers against the table as Umbridge made her argument. Minerva was massaging her forehead. Albus looked as though he was trying not to laugh.

“Well, I agree they should be more cautious,” Minerva said. “But Dolores, Hogwarts is a boarding school for _teenagers_. Hormones are running on overdrive, especially by the time they’re in their fourth and fifth year. Some of the students start dating and snogging by the time they’re in their second and third year. Unless the boys were in some state of undress or other, I wouldn’t worry.”

“I have to agree with Minerva,” Severus said. “So they’re snogging. They’d been spending more time together both in Potion’s Club and also in the private lessons they’re taking with me. Compared to before when they were at each other’s throats, I’d say that’s significant improvement as long as it doesn’t get in the way of their studies.”

“Well, even so,” Umbridge said. “But is it wise? Two boys –”

“Oh, please,” Minerva snapped. “I’ve walked in on more than enough same-sex couples doing far more than just snogging in a corridor.”

“And Hogwarts has been gay-friendly for nearly half a century,” Severus said. “How can it not be when the headmaster’s gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide?”

The women and Dumbledore stared at him. Severus cleared his throat. “Erm…quote from a new book I’m reading in my spare time,” he said.

“I might want to read it when you’re done,” Albus said.

“Yes, sir,” Severus said, making a mental note to berate Sirius for even _knowing_ of _Good Omens_ long enough to think Severus would enjoy it. He was right. Severus was enjoying the book immensely. However, it did not bode well to describe your boss the same way a muggle author did an angel in a meeting with said boss and other coworkers.

Thankfully, Albus Dumbledore was a very forgiving sort. He wouldn’t admit it, but he likely thought it as funny as Severus did, albeit a bit confused.

“Well, Dolores,” Albus said. “I think we can agree that there is no reason to punish the boys. They’re likely to be more cautious about their surroundings now. Besides, it’s nearly Christmas break and as Severus said, Misters Potter and Malfoy used to be quite the rivals. To know their feelings toward each other is shifting for the better is rather encouraging, actually. And with the holidays coming up, well, romance is in the air for everyone, I think.”

Severus ignored the knowing glance Albus sent him.

It didn’t surprise him that Albus was aware that Severus had a relationship. Whether he knew it was with Sirius, though…

Well, what did it matter?

Umbridge looked quite sour at the lack of interest in punishing the boys.

It wasn’t as though they’d done anything wrong. No zonko’s products setting off. Nothing that the Terror – _ahem,_ Weasley – Twins concocted, either…

More importantly, no states of public undress.

If she thought that he and Minerva  would agree on harsher punishments for _snogging_ , well! They weren’t _that_ nasty. Besides, Potter and Malfoy had gone through more than enough horror to need Fudge’s toad adding to it.

“How many times will my concerns be tossed aside?” she demanded.

“Until you realize that you’re too strict, Dolores,” Albus said. “And until you understand that these new policies the school has had to enact are because of an attack _you made_ on my students. Or do you not recall the first time you had a student in detention?

“Those quills you are fond of, Madam, are fused with dark magic. Using them on a student is an abuse both physical and mental. Ideally, you would have been _my_ choice for a teacher. Not the Minister’s.

“As it is, I cannot dismiss you, but I will do what I can to protect my students until you leave or until the minister sees reason. Now, you’ve made your case to the boys’ heads of house and they find your proposal as ludicrous as I do.”

She stared at him, looking like she’d love nothing better than to hex all three of them. “We’ll see,” she said before making her exit. Once gone, Minerva turned to Severus.

“Monkeys on nitrous oxide?” she stated, glaring at him.

“It’s funny,” Severus said. “And that’s hardly the worst thing in the book. It’s what said about an angel. That’s rather tame compared to the satanic nuns or the fact that one of the main characters is a demon who, uh, not so much fell from heaven as saunter vaguely downwards.

“But to summarize, the story is about an angel and a demon that team up to find the antichrist and stop the apocalypse. All while in a classic Bentley. I’m quite attached to that demon character, though. Amazing wit, that one.”

“And this book is called…” Albus asked, picking up a quill.

“ _Good Omens_ ,” Severus said. “ _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch_ , by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Be aware it was written by muggles, so the ideas of magic and that sort are rather inaccurate, yet hilarious. But I do apologize, Headmaster. I should be more careful where I dispense quotes more common in muggle culture. I wasn’t intending to insult.”

“No harm done, Severus,” Albus said, setting the quill aside. “Worse things are said of me.”

#

“I’m just worried,” Pansy said, frowning at Draco, arms crossed over her chest. “Even if you do take up Potter’s offer and go with him to his place, You-Know-Who might just hunt you down anyway.”

Draco massaged his forehead. Pansy meant well, he knew, but her worries only gave voice and added to his own. “I don’t care,” he said, sounding braver than he felt. “If he wants someone to fuck, he has plenty of followers who’d willingly be with him.”

“That’s probably the point,” she said. “You’ve been worse for ware since and before all this you were one of the best students in school.”

“Second best,” he corrected.

Second only to Granger, which he didn’t mind so much now. Given the shit she puts up with from Harry and the four Weasleys as well, he wondered _how_ she managed it being as distracted as she was.

“Irrelevant detail,” Pansy said, waving her hand as if to wave it away. “You’re a brilliant, young, pure blood wizard and your parents are his followers. It wouldn’t shock me if he chose you just for those reasons alone, or if your father offered you up to him.”

That thought stung. It must have shown because Pansy lightened up.

“I know it’s a bitter potion to swallow,” she said. “But it might be true. The Dark Lord owns you. Even admitting aloud that you love Potter is risky now. I’m glad you told him, Draco, and I’d be happier if not for the Dark Lord’s involvement.”

Draco exhaled. “I’m going to get away from him. One way or another, I’ll find a way to escape.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” she said, “But regardless what happens, you still have us.”

By “us,” she meant herself, Blaise, Greg, and Vincent.

His friends couldn’t do much against their families, but they were there for him when he needed them. That helped, but sometimes he regretted telling them anything. His friends have been far more protective of him since, despite his insistence that he didn’t need them to hover around him constantly.

They meant well, though.

“Pansy, I don’t want to go back. I know I have to, but fuck it, there _has_ to be a way to get out of going home for the holidays.”

She embraced him. “I’ll see if there’s a potion I can make that could help you through this. There’s got to be something for PTSD that’s been tried and validated.”

“It’s not…well, I guess it is…but, it’s not…”

I know what you mean,” she assured Draco. “Fuck, I wish I were a Gryffindor. Or a Ravenclaw…A Gryffindor could give you a little of their courage and a Ravenclaw could come up with a way to get you out of this.”

Draco hugged her back, battling the urge to start crying. After a moment, he let her go and fled to his dorm room. Alone, he paced the room, trying to think, to stem the overwhelming tide of emotion threatening to overcome him.

He sat on his bed, focusing on his breathing. He needed to sleep.

More importantly, he needed to rebuild his mental wall. Make it stronger. Make it impenetrable. Make it so powerful that nothing could break through it without his knowing.

 _Calm your mind_ , he told himself, _still your breath. Focus your intention. Empty everything out. Don’t think. Don’t think._

_Don’t think._

_Don’t. Think._

With his eyes closed, everything seemed black. Calm and still blackness…

The wall he built was grey smooth stone several meters thick, reaching toward the sky hundreds of meters up. Draco mumbled spells under his breath, imagining that he was reinforcing the wall with his own magic, making it stronger with each spell.

Finished, he tested it’s power with a blasting charm. The wall absorbed the spell, pushing it back and Draco dodged the rebounding spell.

He glanced down at the chains around his wrists – the mental manifestation he imagined of his bondage to Voldemort. The wall was strong enough now.

It had to be.

So now, he just needed to test it with another wizard: either Harry or Severus. Preferably Severus, so that he could be certain that he did this right…

There was still a little time to put it off.

Just enough to test his wall…

Just enough…

He heard screams below in the common room. Draco’s eyes snapped open and he listened to the cries below. He reached for his wand and went to see what madness had overtaken them.

Death eaters had his classmates crowded in a corner. The older students were trying to keep the younger ones calm.  Draco swallowed and approached them, holding his hands out.

“Don’t,” he said, sounding braver than he felt. “Don’t. Just let me get my things and I’ll go with you.” They glanced at each other.

“Come on,” one said – McNair, likely – and he pushed Draco back to the stairs. Ten minutes later, he carried his trunk back to the common room and approached the fireplace.

He wanted to look at his fellow Slytherins before he left, hopefully reassure them that he’d be okay, but he couldn’t. Or perhaps he dared not. He wasn’t sure if there was a difference anymore. McNair pushed him in. The floo network had remained open and he fell to his knees in his family’s parlor.

His knees cracked against the hard floor and the trunk slammed into his side. The Death Eaters who had invaded the common room came out behind him and the connection was broken. He was pulled his feet by one and the other picked up the trunk.

Draco dared not say a thing until they were at his room. “I had two more days till school ended for the holiday. Why –”

“Ask him yourself,” McNair said, opening the door. The other death eater entered and set the trunk down before McNair released him, shoving Draco into the room before locking the door behind him.

Draco shivered and paced the room, trying to keep his calm.

Right now, his friends would be going to alert Severus and Dumbledore.

Maybe his parents knew he was brought home early. But if so, why didn’t they warn him? Unless, perhaps, they weren’t told. Well, they’d know now and probably wouldn’t be pleased.

The door swung open. Voldemort stepped inside and shut it. Draco could feel his rage and it took everything in his power not to show him weakness.

“My lord?”

“Sit.”

“If it’s all the same, I’ll stand,” Draco said. He was impressed with himself for keeping his fear out of his voice, or that he even dared to defy him anyway. Voldemort glared at him, as though trying to gage where this newfound bravery came from. “Why did you send McNair to get me from school?”

“You know why, even if it’s not dawned on you yet,” Voldemort replied.

Draco blinked, trying to find an explanation as to why he was brought home. The kiss he shared with Harry earlier that day came to mind. But from whose mind did he get it from?

If he new about the kiss, then, did he know about Draco’s confession? If he got it from Draco’s mind, he’d know how genuine it was. If not, he could, hopefully, come up with a lie about wanting to lure Harry into a trap.

“I knew since the night I claimed you as my own how you felt for the Boy, so don’t think you can lie to me,” Voldemort snarled. He held out his hand and beckoned Draco to approach. Draco lurched forward against his will until he was close enough for Voldemort to grab his throat. “I thought I was rather clear, Draco. You belong to me. Only me.”

Draco knew he should feel more afraid than this, but instead, he felt angry. He smacked the heel of his foot into Voldemort’s knee, startling him enough to let go and Draco pulled his wand free, aiming it at Voldemort, who stared at it as though he’d never seen it before.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” he snapped, “Especially not to you.”

“Put that away, Draco.”

Draco ignored the command, tightening his hold on the hilt. He wasn’t going to let Voldemort rape him again. Never again.

But then he saw a flash of red, sending him into darkness.

#

_“Such a stupid boy,” he said, putting his wand away, He approached and lifted him in his arms. He would have to punish him for his insolence as well as his infidelity._

_He had an idea of how to do so. It filled him with delight to think of it. Oh, his lover would hate it, but that was the point. Draco was a beautiful youth, after all, and he was quite aware of the lustful looks he drew…the parents, of course, were not to know._

_And if they did, Lucius wouldn’t interfere for long. It was that bitch he had for a wife he worried about. She still fought them all where her son was concerned…_

Harry woke, panting. His heart raced.

“No,” he whispered. “Please, no.”

He got out of bed and grabbed the Marauder’s Map. It had to be just a dream. He prayed it was a dream. He pressed the tip of his wand to the paper.

“ _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_ ,” he recited. As the ink swirled and formed, he pressed his wand to it again. “Where is Draco Malfoy?” He’d never tried to use the map to find someone this way before, but he had to try.

Nothing.

“Where is Dumbledore?” The map flipped to show him the Slytherin Common Room. It was crowded with several dots and names.

He tried another. “Where is McGonagall?” It went to her rooms near the Gryffindor entrance. She was walking around and then left the rooms, heading quickly to the dungeons.

It should show him Draco, then, if he was in the castle.

“Where is Draco Malfoy?” he tried again.

It didn’t even stir or twitch. Harry cursed. He summoned his invisibility cloak, pulled on a pair of lounge pants and shoes, and left the tower, heading as quietly yet as quickly as he could to the dungeons.

He caught sight of McGonagall on her way down, striding furiously downstairs. He followed her all the way to the Slytherin Common Room.

He’d been inside once, in his second year. He and Ron wanted to find out if Draco was Slytherin’s heir. They’d become Crabbe and Goyle to do it, but found out nothing useful, save that it was definitely not Draco. Not much had changed, appearance wise, but it was different when it was crowded.

Warmer.

Dumbledore looked as solemn as Snape furious. He kept close to McGonagall, who approached them. “You said a student had been abducted?” she said. “Who?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Severus said. “Death Eaters somehow got in – don’t look at me like that! I wouldn’t jeopardize everyone’s safety in that way! OR any way! All I know is that I was working on potions to restock the infirmary with and Parkinson runs in screaming that Death Eaters had gotten in through a floo connection.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not your fault,” Albus said. “Your lab is sound proof.”

“That’s just an excuse, Albus!”

“You’re not the first head of house to lose a student,” he said, as though he thought it’d be comforting. Harry didn’t see how it could and it didn’t work anyway, if the way Snape shook and ground his teeth were any indication.

 _It’s my fault_ , Harry thought. _I shouldn’t have kissed him while I’m still so open to Voldemort._

Snape’s eyes snapped up to meet his own.

_Fuck._

_“Fuck is right,”_ Snape’s voice echoed in his head. _“What are you doing here?”_

_I…I know where he is. He’s at his parents._

Snape gave no indication of knowing that Harry was even there.

_“Go back to your dorm, Potter. I will know if you don’t return to your orm, Potter. Don’t ask me how, just know I will.”_

#

When he woke, he was bound. For a moment, Draco didn’t know where he was and that made him panic. Then he remembered.

That made his panic worse as he realized he couldn’t move, tied to the bed. A pair of hands held his thighs apart as someone sucked him. He tried to kick, but the bonds around his ankles tightened.

“Don’t make it harder for yourself, Draco.”

He turned to Voldemort. The Dark Lord lounged on a chair, watching him. If he was over there, then who…? Draco tugged on the bonds again. Yes, they were going to tighten if he didn’t stay still and let the person between his legs have their way with him.

Well, Draco wondered if it’d be better to have circulation cut from his hands and feet anyway.

The other person lowered their head, releasing Draco’s cock from between their mouth to suck at his testicles and lick at his hole.

 _If I close my eyes, maybe I can pretend that it’s Harry_ , he thought.

A second pair of hands covered his eyes  as a third person settled over him, tracing the tip of a cock over his lips. Draco clenched his jaw. The hands over his eyes were feminine, but cruel, as one of them moved over to his jaw and loosed it enough.

“Bite me and I’ll fuck you bloody,” the man on top of him threatened before shoving his cock down Draco’s throat. The smaller hand moved back to his eyes, holding his head down as the third man choked him with his cock.

Draco gagged. He was going to throw up.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Fingers pushed at his ass, pushing inside brutally. But with the cock in his mouth gagging him, he couldn’t scream at the burn as the fingers moved out and were replaced with a thick cock. He wept, tears smearing the woman’s skin over his eyes.

The woman laughed. The man fucking him gripped his cock, slick with spit, and stroked.

“Come on, Kid, get it up. Fucking whore, gonna make you cum whether you want to or not.”

The man pushing his cock down Draco’s throat moaned, picking up his pace until he came. Draco coughed and his throat closed down around the vile seed. Some of it went down, the rest went up as he vomited turning as he could on his side.

“ _Scourgify_ ,” the woman said. The smell still lingered, but the sheet was dry now.

As he regained his breath, he could hear screaming outside the door. Someone pleading, banging on the door. A female’s voice.

_Mum…_

Her screams were ignored as the man who had fucked his mouth moved to suck him as the woman climbed onto him. He never saw her face, but she held him down.

“Lick,” she commanded, grinding down on his face. Draco ignored her, even as she pulled at his hair and rubbed her sex against his lips and nose.

“Draco, I will use the imperius curse if you do not obey,” Voldemort said.

“Oh, please, my lord, use it on him,” the woman begged. “He’d be a good boy, then.”

Draco shut his eyes tightly and darted his tongue against her swollen clit. The woman gasped.

“Good boy. Such a good boy. Yessss…”

“Is this fucking whore impotent or something?”

 _No, just disgusted by you,_ Draco thought.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” the first man gasped. That was all the warning given before the semen pushed into him, the flow of it ripping into him painfully. When he pulled away, Draco’s lower body spasmed and his hole fluttered.

“Look at that cute little ass.”Draco winced as a hand smacked him. Fresh tears escaped, but he kept licking the woman’s clit. Two tongues licked his lower body and it was starting to betray him despite how he really felt.

“Oh? Starting to like it, Baby?”

_No. I don’t…I won’t…I can’t…I don’t…_

But his cock was hardening against his will.

_Harry._

If he could think of Harry, he might get through this.

_Harry…_

Black hair, always messy, like he didn’t bother to brush it.

_Harry…_

Bright green eyes that he’d want nothing but to get lost in.

_Harry…_

Soft, dry lips against his own. Lips he didn’t mind pressing against his own.

_Harry…Harry…Harry…_

The woman’s muscles shook and tensed as she came. She climbed off him and walked away from them to Voldemort’s side. Draco didn’t want to see her face. He didn’t want to see anyone, so he kept his eyes closed, waiting for it to end…

#

The floo network wasn’t working. Severus had to get off the school grounds so to apparate to Malfoy Manor. He passed through their gates and ran to the door, throwing them open. The hall was empty, but he could hear screaming upstairs.

He climbed the steps and found Narcissa, collapsed in front of a door, weeping. Severus helped her up. “Where’s Draco?” he asked. Narcissa pointed at the door. No sounds came from within.

“They stopped hours ago,” she said, “but I…I…”

Severus’ felt sick. “Can I go in? Or are we locked out?”

“I don’t know.” Narcissa said. “Severus…Severus, please get him away from here.”

“I will.”

“And don’t let him come back,” she begged. “Not for anything. I can’t protect him anymore, Severus. I can’t protect my son anymore.”

Severus nodded. “I know a place he’ll be safe,” he said. “It’s safer than Hogwarts.” Narcissa nodded, relief clear on her face. Severus tried the door. It opened easily for him and he stepped inside.

Draco was still in bed, hiding under covers. Severus cast a diagnostics spell and his stomach churned. He needed a hospital, but St. Mungo’s wasn’t secure enough. Likely Dumbledore was working on cutting off Hogwarts’ floo networks, so it wasn’t likely it’d be remiss to take him to Poppy, but he dared not.

It’d take the whole break to reinforce the school from outside threats.

He’d have to take him to Grimauld and have Poppy come there to help him with the more severe healing Draco would need.

He shook Draco awake. Draco cried out, backing away from him without pulling the covers off him, but they rode up and he could see patches of blood soaked into the sheets.

“Draco, it’s me,” he said. “It’s Severus.” Draco still shook, but he pulled the covers off his head. “We’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Severus said. “I’m sorry, Draco, but you need to clean up and dress. I’ll get the rest of your things packed away.”

“I’d have to come back.”

“No. You’re not coming back here. Ever.” _At least not until it’s safe to come back. Who knows when that will be?_ Draco stared at him disbelieving. Severus couldn’t blame him. He had failed Draco before. He wasn’t going to risk failing him again. Not when it might mean his life.

Draco stood, still wrapped in the covers and went to the bathroom. Severus sneered at the bed spread and waved his wand at it, letting the flames overtake it until it had formed the image of a phoenix in flight. That would give them a scare for a while.

Everything else was packed into trunks and bags, then shrunk to fit into a bag with an extendable charm on it to fit everything  Draco would need.

When Draco returned, he limped, but he was dry and dressed in dark clothes. He followed Severus. Narcissa was waiting at the gate. She hugged Draco and kissed his forehead.

“Don’t come back,” she said. “Whatever happens next, do not come back.”

“I won’t,” he promised, embracing her tightly. Narcissa pushed him out the gate. “Mum?”

“Go,” she said. Severus exited and grabbed Draco’s arm. “I will find you when it’s safe, Draco.” Severus apparated, pulling Draco along with him, to Grimauld Place.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry refused to sleep since the night Draco was abducted. It made him snappish and angry, but it was either that or risk seeing what Voldemort was doing to Draco.

Hermione said he was being stupid, but he knew she was just scared for him. He didn’t blame her. Lack of sleep made him more vulnerable, but if it came down to that or seeing Draco raped…

Well…

Neither were good options.

Still, he gulped down another coffee, ignoring how his hands shook from being over caffeinated, or the dark, bruise-like circles forming beneath his eyes.

He followed Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione to meet up with Molly and Tonks.

“All ready to go?” Tonks asked the group. “Come on, then.”

The two women led them out of the wizard world and into the muggle world. From there, they were going to take the Knight Bus to Grimauld Place. After five minutes of holding tight and trying not to barf, they arrived a couple blocks away from the townhouse. They paid the fare and disembarked. Hermione did vomit, then, in the city’s bushes lining the street.

Once assured she was all right, they headed to the house.

They filed into the house and went to the kitchen to bid their hellos and holiday salutations. Harry entered in after Ron, saying his own greetings.

“Malfoy?!” Ginny cried out.

“What’s he doing here?” Ron demanded.

Both of them were lectured by Molly for rudeness as Harry turned to where they spied him. Draco looked as bad as Harry felt, but he managed a smile when their eyes met.

“You’re all right,” he said. Which was stupid. He didn’t look all right at all.

“No, but I’m alive,” Draco said. “What’s wrong with you? You look like shit.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“More like wouldn’t,” Hermione said, sitting next to them. Harry felt his cheeks tinge. “But now that you know he’s safe, Harry, you need to sleep.”

“Yeah. I know. Let the caffeine I inhaled wash out first, Mione.”

“But you will sleep now?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry snapped irritably. “Yes, I’ll go sleep in a bit.” He turned to Draco. “Do I want to know what they did? You don’t have to say anything if you don’t…”

“I just want to forget it ever happened,” Draco said. “And I don’t want to talk about it. Not here where there’s so many people.”

“When you’re ready, then,” Harry said. “I won’t ask, just let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Draco nodded and reached for Harry’s hand. Harry took Draco’s hand in his own. “You’re safe now.”

Draco nodded, but Harry didn’t believe that he believed it.

#

The day before wasn’t the grand return for the holidays he hoped from Harry, but Sirius couldn’t be too upset by it. Not if the way he and Draco seemed to behave around each other was what he thought it was. He turned over to face Severus, who slept peacefully beside him.

Severus’ back was to him, so it was easy to move in and wrap his arms around Severus’ waist. Severus had been rather irate and tense the last few days since he showed up with Draco.

Sirius had given Draco his brother’s old room. It was empty, after all, and Draco needed his privacy after what he’d gone through.

He hugged him tighter and Severus grunted. “Siri?”

“Yeah?”

“All right?”

“Yeah.”

Severus shifted, likely going back to sleep, but his backside rubbed against Sirius’ groin deliciously. Sirius swallowed, feeling his cock stir as Severus rubbed against him. Sirius’ breathing began to shallow.

“Severus?”

“Do you require a verbal hint, Black?” Severus asked, grinding back against him. “I want you to fuck me.”

Sirius grinned and pulled Severus’ pants down. “As you command, Professor,” he said. “Hand me the lube, will you?”

Severus reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a jar as Sirius kissed Severus’ bare skin. Severus handed him the jar and Sirius opened it. He scooped a generous amount out with his fingers and smeared it over the crease of Severus’ ass.

Severus groaned and relaxed into the bed as Sirius stretched him open.

“God damn, Sev,” he moaned, pushing a third finger past the rim.

“Will you fuck me all ready?”

“In a moment,” Sirius said, pulling his fingers free.

With more lubricant, he stroked his cock from root to tip and eased inside Severus. Sirius kissed his neck as he thrust, slicked hand curled loosely around Severus’ cock. Severus shuddered, clenching around Sirius’ cock.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Severus hissed. Sirius didn’t trust himself to speak, lest the wrong thing slip out. Instead, he tilted Severus’ chin, turning his head until he could kiss his lips.

Even so, the words he wanted to say stayed on the tip of his tongue.

_I love you._

Maybe when he was free…Maybe when he didn’t have to hide anymore…So many fucking maybes he couldn’t even give them conscious thought.

Right now, Sirius was stuck here. He had to trade one prison for another and sometimes he couldn’t tell which prison was preferable.

Severus’ mouth slipped open as his orgasm overcame him, clenching around Sirius’ cock.

“ _Fuck_ …” he hissed. “ _Yes! Fuck yes…”_

Sirius kissed him again as he came, every muscle tense and nerves sensitive. He nearly collapsed on top of Severus but managed to slip out and roll over onto his back for a moment before pulling Severus back in his arms.

Severus was already falling back to sleep, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder. Even in sleep, he seemed so stern and weary. Sirius ran his fingers through Severus’ hair for a time, wondering if he’d be able to get away with massaging his forehead. Particularly where his brows knit together.

He decided against it and looked at the clock.

Might as well get up and get breakfast ready. Sirius slipped free as carefully as he could, but Severus had not fallen asleep yet, opening his eyes to peer at him.

“Going to the kitchen,” Sirius told him, bending down to kiss him again. Severus hummed and went back to sleep, pulling a pillow under his head.

Sirius pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a jumper before heading downstairs. Kreacher muttered insults under his breath and Sirius passed him by. Such was normal, but Sirius really needed to figure out the best way to handle the old Elf.

Kreacher had been in the kitchen, given that it seemed cleaner than it was last night. Only thing was, that meant Sirius had to dig around for the skillet and pots he’d need. He cursed under his breath as he searched, causing more noise than was necessary.

He found a skillet and pulled it free, setting it on the counter. Now to find the eggs. Hopefully Kreacher hadn’t rehomed those as well…

“G’morning, Sirius.”

He turned to Harry and grinned. “Hey, kid. Sleep well?”

“Pretty well,” Harry said. He did look better, too. The circles under his eyes were less pronounced, though he did seem a little weary. “Head hurts like a bitch. Hermione would say it’s from all the coffee I drank.” Sirius found the eggs where he left them the day before and pulled them free.

“Well, coffee’s not the worst thing to get addicted to,” Sirius said. He lit one of the stove top grills and set the skillet over it. “Just slow it down. A cup should be sufficient to get you through the day.”

“Yeah, I was more trying to avoid sleeping.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say to that at first. He guessed it had to do with the connection he had to Voldemort, though. He opened a cabinet and picked up a bottle of olive oil. “Why?” he asked instead. “You need to sleep, Harry.”

“I know, but I…my connection with Voldemort…I saw what he did to Draco and when Draco was taken back, I just…I didn’t want to see that. Not sleeping seemed to be the best way to avoid it.”

“What about your Occlumency lessons?”

“I’m still shit at it.”

“Then ask Severus for some advice on how to get better. You can’t avoid sleeping, Harry. It’s not healthy,” Sirius said, pouring a little oil into the skillet. He corked the bottle and set it aside. “I know Severus can be an ass at times, though he has his reasons for it.”

“I know. He’s been better than he used to. But he’s still Snape.”

Sirius chuckled at that. “Fair enough. He’s not the same kid I knew when I was at school, though, so that’s a plus. We both grew up. A little bit.”

Harry watched him mix the eggs for a bit and once they were in the skillet, asked: “What were you like at school? You and him? And Lupin? And my parents?”

Sirius gave that a bit of thought.

“Well, to be honest, Harry, we had good moments and bad moments. Severus probably told you about how your dad was an ass.”

“Yeah, but he hated my dad.”

“And for a good reason. I’m not proud of it, Harry, but your dad and I were…we were bullies. We tormented a lot of our classmates without a thought. Severus was one of our, uh, favorite targets. So, his hatred for James isn’t unfounded or unfair. He and I have discussed it a lot and he knows he’s been unfair to you. It’s hard for someone who was bullied to get past the trauma and when the kid of your school tormentor reminds you so much _of_ him…well…”

“Am I like my dad?”

“In some ways,” Sirius said. “But not that way. Not from what any of us have seen or been told.” He turned the eggs over. “You got his athleticism and looks, his panache for trouble, even his nearsightedness. But everything else is your mum. I think that got to Severus a lot more than the similarities you have with James.

“Lily was…she was…well, as a lot of the ancient wizards and witches would say, blessed by Lady Justice. James loved her to death but as long as he was a bully, Lily wanted nothing to do with him. Remus and I tried to reason with him on it, but, well, James could be just as stubborn as Lily. He was convinced she was his soul mate.”

“Was Snape in love with my mom, too?”

“Yes, and James hated that even more. They were best friends, Severus and Lily. Kind of how you and Hermione are, but with the childhood sweetheart vibe.” He grabbed two plates and divided the eggs between them. Harry thanked him and they sat down together.

Sirius debated how to balance what he’d just told Harry. He didn’t exactly show James in a good light, after all, and that bothered him. He picked at his eggs as he thought.

“I don’t mean to bring up just the negatives on how James and I were at your age, Harry,” Sirius said. “But it’s important that you know that we weren’t perfect. James wasn’t always a good person, but he was a kid, then. Still, he was my best friend and like a brother to me. While he could be an asshole, he was also protective of those he cared for. He told me more than enough times to just stay with him and his parents’ so I could escape my own. I was too afraid to take up the offer until after my fifth year, but the offer always stood. And remember he became an animagus so to help Remus through the full moons before the wolfsbane potion was invented.

“And your mother, well, she could be cruel herself. She didn’t mean to, of course, it was her own anger and rage, that got under her skin. Her kind of cruelty was more…she wouldn’t even realize she was being cruel unless it was pointed out to her. And she had a temper, at times. A lot like yours can be.”

Harry hummed and swallowed. “What about when they were together?” Sirius grinned.

“When James found out he was going to be a dad, he was both excited and nervous. He had panicked at first and ran off, so Peter and I had to go find him and calm him down before bringing him home to Lily. Remus was trying to help her in his own way, as he could. James kept saying that he was terrified of what would happen if he had a kid. He didn’t want you to be like him too much, of course.”

“Fat chance, that. Ron and I crashed a car into the whomping willow just before our second year began.”

“Ah, but are you a bully?”

“No. Actually, I did end up like Mum in that way, I think.”

“And how did Ron’s parents handle that event?”

“Ron got a howler from his mum.”

“You’d have gotten one, too. I can’t say who would’ve written it. Probably Lily because James would’ve been torn between impressed and angry.” Harry snorted and hunched over his plate. Sirius nodded. “Yeah, definitely more likely to be your mother. James was more the sort that would crack dad jokes.”

“Well, I was spared that, I guess. From what I’m getting on my dad, the dad jokes would never stop.”

“They started as soon as he came to grips that he was a dad. It, um, even got to me. Dad jokes are just _terrible_. Yet you find yourself laughing anyway.”

“Dad jokes are like puns.”

“Worse, kid,” Sirius said. “They _are_ puns.”

#

_“Where is he?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“You’re lying to me, Narcissa. Tell me where you took him.”_

_“I can’t tell you what I do not know.”_

_“Crucio.”_

Draco woke, a scream escaping his throat. The door swung open and he was pulled into an embrace, a hand stroking his hair, calming him.

Not his mother. No.

Weasley’s.

“You’re okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”

“He’s torturing my mum,” he replied.

Molly did not deny it but kept holding him. “Your mom took a big risk getting you out of there,” she said. “She might have known this would happen.”

“I have to go back –”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Molly snapped, cupping his face in her hands. “Except to take a shower and then to the kitchen for breakfast. Professor Snape and your mother risked a lot to get you away from You-Know-Who and you will not spit that in their face by going back to him.”

Draco swallowed and bowed his head, sniffing. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but he knew Molly was right. “Okay,” he whispered. Molly gave him a hug. She released him before he was ready, but he made no demand for more comfort than she was willing to give.

He’d neglected his occlumency.

That might’ve been why he saw it.

Deciding to tell Snape when he saw him next to get his take on it, Draco got out of bed and grabbed clean clothes to dress in. He showered quickly, dressed just as quickly, and went down to the kitchen where a feast of eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit laid on the table. A jug of pumpkin juice floated around to each spot, filling each cup on the table. Molly smiled at him and urged him to take a seat. He did so, hoping to be a little more invisible than he felt.

Even so, he filled his plate with enough food to make a breakfast sandwich out of. The food wasn’t nearly as rich as his parents had liked theirs to be, nor was it the same fare as it was at school, but the blandness helped ease his nausea.

Molly shouted for her brood to get their asses down the stairs. The stairs shook from the storming of Weasleys coming down the stairs. The twins sat on either side of him – which made him nervous. He had heard the rumors of the Weasley Twins’ trouble. He had seen a bit of it at Potion’s Club.

“So, Drake,” the one to his left said. (He wore a jumper with a large F knitted to it. So Fred to his left, and George to his right.)

“Got any plans today?” George asked.

“No and I intend to keep it that way. Whatever you two are planning, I want no part of it.”

“Nonsense,” said George.

“We were told to make sure you were sufficiently distracted today,” said Fred.

“So that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Or else shit’s gonna fly.”

“And by that, we mean Gryffindor will not win the House Cup.”

“Or the Quiditch Cup.”

“No matter _how_ hard we all work to get back up the ranks.”

 _Severus!_ Draco sighed. “I’ll talk to Severus about that. I need to talk to him anyway.”

“Oh, well, in that case, it was a lie,” Fred said. “No need to tell him we said anything…”

“Assholes,” Draco snorted, setting the sandwich down to take a swig of juice. “You’ll find I’m not as willing to be a guinea pig as your brothers and friends.”

“A guinea pig?” George asked, feigning an affronted air. “What insult, Fred!”

“I know, George. We’d never use you as a guinea pig.”

“We are against using any animal for experimentation.”

“We much prefer testing our products on unwilling and unwitting human beings. Ouch!” They yelped as Molly smacked the back of their heads.

“You’ll leave Draco alone,” she snapped at them. “And you’ve work to do upstairs, as it is.”

“I don’t mind,” Draco said. He’d never had brothers and the twins weren’t as bad as he thought. “I could help, too, Ma’am.”

“No, no, no,” she assured him. “You need to rest.”

Rest.

That’s all anyone wanted him to do right now.

From the moment he stepped into Grimauld Place for the second time, he’d been told to, “Rest. Relax. Don’t push yourself.” He felt he was being treated too delicately. He felt better now. His body didn’t seem to be in as much pain as before and he was always taking the potions that Madam Pomfrey and Severus told him to take, so he was feeling better.

He needed something to _do_ other than homework. True, he was letting his occlumency practice slide, so he needed to work on that some more…rebuild his “wall.”

Again.

“I really would like something to do, Ma’am,” Draco insisted.

Molly frowned at that, as though she wanted to tell him otherwise. In the end, she said she’d allow it but he had to talk to Severus and Pomfrey first. Well, Severus would be easy enough.

Pomfrey, though…

A dog raced inside the kitchen and Harry followed close by. Molly sighed and waved her wand, cleaning the mud tracked inside.

She then caught the dog with a levitating charm, which the dog found unamusing. It yelped and barked as she carefully sent it up the stairs and let it drop at the top of the landing.

“There, go take a bath, Sirius. You need it.”

The dog transformed into Sirius. “Fine! Damn it!”

_So that’s how he escaped Azkaban…_

“Did you and Sirius have a good walk, Harry?” Molly asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?”

“We both ate earlier, but I’ll have some juice,” he said, sitting down beside Ron, who was wolfing down his eggs. How anyone could eat like that, Draco didn’t know. It seemed more like Ron inhaled his food rather than ate it.

Draco finished his sandwich and washed it down with some juice before thanking Molly with all the courtesy his mother had instilled in him before Hogwarts and went to find Severus, hoping that he was in the house so he could beg him to convince Molly and Pomfrey to let him help them.

Of course, he used to not care, being that it was “servant’s work.” Something best left to the house elves. However, Sirius’ elf was ancient and crotchety. How he managed to still clean the place, he didn’t know. And it’d give him something to do rather than be left to think and brood over what led him to staying with his cousin.

If he was left to only himself, he might go mad.

Well, madder than he already felt.

Draco found Severus exiting a bathroom. He posed his request.

“If you think you can handle it, then by all means,” Severus said. “Just don’t push yourself too hard. You’re still healing and I won’t have Poppy threatening to throttle me because you hurt yourself or pushed yourself too hard while still in a delicate state.”

Draco frowned at the insinuation. “I’m not delicate.”

“You know what I mean,” Severus said. “Nothing too strenuous, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

#

Fire roared in the hearth and Celestina Warbeck warbled on the radio as they worked on holiday homework. Harry couldn’t stop watching Draco.

Running into a Boggart had not been pleasant. Draco had a panic attack as the Boggart approached him, looking like Voldemort. Harry jumped in front and the Boggart changed to a Dementor. Once that had been handled, Harry and Hermione both helped Draco back to his bedroom.

He refused to let go of Harry’s hand even after that, sobbing. Harry had reassured Hermione that he could handle Draco. He spent almost an hour calming him down. Even after finally gripping that it wasn’t real, Draco shook terribly and Harry didn’t want to leave him alone.

He was well enough again by lunch and willing to get back to helping them take care of the house and make it suitable again. Molly wasn’t keen on allowing him to help again until he agreed to _not_ enter a room first or alone in case there were more Boggarts.

 Boggarts aside, Draco had not showed that he was handling his situation any less than as healthily as he could manage. Far healthier than Harry ever managed his, anyway.

Perhaps because of the difference in maturity between them when the rapes started…

Harry’s eyes drifted over Draco’s legs, clad in comfortable grey joggers as he wrote an essay, sucking on a cherry flavored sugar-quill between sentences. He wore a tight black t-shirt and his hair was actually _ungelled_ for once. His feet were clad in white socks.

It was almost unnatural seeing Draco so simply dressed, or so comfortably. It was odd seeing him out of his tailored black suits and leather shoes which were so much like armor.

Harry’s eyes fixed on Draco’s back and shoulders, muscles and skin rippling as Draco wrote. A patch of skin was bare between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of the joggers. He had to pull himself back to his own homework or else get caught for staring at him.

He couldn’t concentrate. Harry kept recalling their one kiss and how he felt after it as he watched Draco, and cursed Umbridge’s timing. His quill nearly snapped as he thought about it. And now he didn’t know if he could get another. Draco might still be too traumatized by what happened…

Yet…

Deciding he wasn’t in a mind to study, Harry packed up his books, returned them to his room, and went to take a cold shower. The chill gave him goosebumps and he shivered. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of that fucking kiss and how it aroused him. How it felt to press himself to another person and feel Draco’s body respond to him in kind.

He was debating getting on his knees and sucking Draco off when they were caught. He still wanted to do that, but he didn’t want to push Draco into another panic attack. He figured it’d be better if Draco came to him. Would he, though? Would Draco come to him and ask him for a fuck?

Realizing he wasn’t going to calm down for a while, Harry turned the water slowly to a warmer temperature and stroked his cock. He faced the spray and leaned against the wall, letting his mind wander.

He wanted to peel that fucking shirt off Draco’s torso and run his hands over that back and chest. Lick and suck at the nipples and then move lower till he was on his knees before him to pull the trousers down. In his fantasy, Draco had forgone pants.

Harry would swallow him down and listen to him whine and moan as he blew him. Draco would pull at his hair as he edged closer. Draco would encourage him to _keep going._

_Keep going._

_Yes._

_Yes._

_Yes!_

Harry choked back a cry as he came. He slapped a hand over his mouth as the other milked his cock. His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing ragged.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slumping down to sit in the tub for a moment…just until his strength returned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took this long to get to consensual smut. Might've been a bit too soon. Oh well.

After a couple moments, he made himself stand and turn the water off before drying off and redressing. On exiting the bathroom, Harry froze as he nearly bumped into Draco.

The joggers hung low to Draco’s hips and Harry bit back a groan as his heart skipped a beat.  He swallowed as Draco moved toward him.

“Can I talk to you privately?” Draco asked.

“Yeah. Sure,” Harry said.

Draco led him to the bedroom Sirius had given him and shut the door behind them. Then he cast a silencing spell and turned to Harry, leaning against the door.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Do you need something, Draco?”

“Answers,” Draco said. “You knew what he…what Riddle did to me. How much have you seen?”

“Draco—”

“How much?”

“I didn’t see what happened the last time. I didn’t want to, so I didn’t sleep.”

“But before?”

“Before I thought they were just nightmares,” Harry said.

“So you don’t know who else raped me.”

“No. I don’t. Why would you want to know? What good will that do for you?”

Draco swallowed, “Because I’m scared. I didn’t see them and I thought I didn’t want to know, but now…I’m angry and I…I’ve never been this angry before. How can you not be angry, too?”

“I _am_ angry,” Harry said. “I’m angry all the time.”

He sat on the bed, crossing his legs. Draco joined him there at the other side of it.

Harry removed his glasses and massaged his eyes. “I’m not handling my anger any better than you are, Draco. You seem to be doing better at coping than I am.”

“I’m not,” Draco said. “Coping, that is. How does one even begin to cope with what happened to me? With what happened to us?” Harry put his glasses back on.

“I’m not a good role model for sound mental health, Draco,” he said. “I’ll help where I can, but you might want to talk to your house’s mind-healers instead.”

Draco scoffed. “Yeah? How’s that going for you?”

“Better, actually,” Harry admitted. “It gets easier.”

“Does it? Doesn’t feel any easier,” Draco said. “They don’t understand.”

“How do you know they don’t?”

Draco shrugged, staring at his socked feet instead. “Maybe they do understand, but it doesn’t seem to be getting better for me. Not emotionally and now…” He looked at Harry. “The other day, when the Boggart showed up, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry said. “You panicked. Given what Riddle did, I’m not surprised that you’d panic or have an anxiety attack.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have kept you from helping –”

“Draco, I didn’t mind staying with you while you calmed down.”

Draco hummed, but otherwise seemed unconvinced. He nibbled his lower lip and Harry found himself staring at it, repressing a moan. He swallowed instead, turning away from Draco.

“Are you upset with me?”

“What?” Harry asked, looking at him again.

“For kissing you?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “I wasn’t upset.”

He scratched the back of his neck, wondering hot to explain it.

“I’d…since I started to understand what happened to me and realize it’s not something to just shrug off, I’d not been…aroused. Not till you kissed me and since…”

Why was it so hard to say?

Was it because it was Draco?

Or was it because he actually comprehended how damaged he had become and was still trying to glue himself back together?

Draco stared at him, waiting. Harry felt his face reddening and he removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose as a headache began to form. Draco smirked.

“Do I turn you on, Potter?” he asked.

Harry put his glasses on. “Yeah,” he admitted, still blushing.

_Fucking hell, why am I so embarrassed by this? I’m being an idiot…yeah. That’s it._

“You do.”

The silence was thick between them. Harry sighed, gathering his confidence.

“Draco, I can’t say if I love you or not, but I definitely want to kiss you again. And I want to fuck you, or be fucked by you. I get that it might not be the best time for that, but…”

Draco inhaled. “I can’t be the bottom again,” he said. “Not after what…”

“Then I’ll bottom,” Harry said. “I don’t mind.”

“But what about your own history…”

“I was never hurt the way you were. My johns…they never hurt me like that. I didn’t actually bottom for anyone until I was eight. Most of the time, they were content fingering me or sucking me off or petting me. They could do whatever they wanted as long as I never needed to go to the hospital.”

“That’s twisted.”

“Very, but that was the closest thing to actual love and attention I would get from anyone. Those times were the only times my uncle was actually anything close to nice to me. He never touched me,” Harry added hastily, “just arranged the meetings and made sure I wasn’t hurt afterward.

“It’s still twisted. I know that. What I’m trying to say is that my experience wasn’t anything like yours, twisted as it was. Is. I want to be with you. I’m all right with being intimate with you.

“I can’t make what happened to either of us right. It’s not going to ever be, but…fuck, Draco, maybe I’m fucking messed up, but I miss the intimacy of it all…I can’t explain it very well…”

“It was the only sort of intimacy you had from any relative since your parents died, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re not the one who’s fucked up, then,” Draco said. “What happened to you is fucked up. The men who gave you that sort of intimacy are fucked up. But you know it’s fucked up now…really not been turned on at all since realizing it until we kissed?”

Harry nodded. Draco hummed, staring at him, as though trying to figure him out. Harry moved closer.

“We don’t have to do anything we aren’t ready for. Maybe…maybe we could use safe words. Something we can say that means stop to both of us.”

Draco nodded. “I like that. So it’s a word that means stop just to us?”

“Yeah. It can be any word we want,” Harry said. Draco scratched his chin. “Probably a simple word. Easy to remember. Not too many syllables.”

“Riddle,” Draco suggested. “At least, for me, I think it’d be Riddle.”

Harry thought about for a moment then nodded. “Riddle, then. If either of us says Riddle, then we stop and take a break.”

“So, is it just going to be kissing and sex?”

“If you want,” Harry said, shrugging.

“It’s _not_ all I want,” Draco snapped.

Harry blinked, startled. Draco exhaled, running his hand through his hair.

“I want more than that. I know I’ve been an ass until recently, but…fuck, I don’t know how to put it. I want to go out on dates with you, to spend time with you outside of our classes and Quiditch, and off campus. I want to be with you and not be afraid to be seen with you. Not by the press or by anyone who would want to hurt us, regardless why. I want to be your boyfriend, or partner, significant other…”

“I’ve never been public with anyone I was with. My…fame makes it a bit hard.”

“Harry, I’m a Malfoy. My family’s one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and we’re rather wealthy, too. I know how to handle the press and paparazzi.”

“You’re a trust fund brat.”

“What’s a trust fund?”

Harry waved it off. “Muggle thing…means rich kid. Doesn’t need to work because his parents take care of everything for him.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I am. But so are you.”

“Except I’m an orphan and that money isn’t my parents’ anymore,” Harry said. “Technically, it’s my inheritance, therefore, mine without parental supervision of any sort.”

“That’s rather dangerous, don’t you think?”

“A bit,” Harry admitted. He grinned. “I almost bought a gold cauldron my first year.”

Draco laughed, falling back onto the bed.

“Knowing Snape, what would he have done to me?”

“Nothing good…Oh! My great-great-grandfather had a gold cauldron. We still have it. It’s got jewels inlaid around the rim and the lid.”

“Cool…”

“Can’t do much with it, though. Iron and pewter cauldrons tend to be best for brewing as they can withstand higher temperatures.”

“Well, I know that now,” Harry laughed, scooting closer to lie beside him. “Back then, I didn’t know anything about magic or my heritage.”

Draco looked at him, moving to lay on his side instead of his back. Harry grinned at him.

“So…never get a gold cauldron.”

“I never said that. I said they were best for decoration.”

“Or for soup. Or a flower pot.”

“I would _never_ use a gold cauldron as a flower pot. A soup bowl, though…that’s a way to make it practical,” Draco agreed. “Do you prefer things practical, Harry?”

“Usually,” Harry said. “But there’s nothing wrong with things just being decorative. I just don’t like the idea of having something that doesn’t get used if it can be used for something. It would just take up space, then.”

They fell silent, staring at each other.

Harry shifted to his own side, and threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair, pulling him closer as Harry leaned in, and kissed him. Draco returned the kiss, pushing Harry back down onto his back.

Harry moved his hand down to Draco’s shoulder as the other moved under the t-shirt.

Draco hissed, flinching at the touch at first. Harry paused, worried he’d pushed too far.

“Okay?”

 “Yeah,” Draco said, moving his own hand under Harry’s shirt. “Don’t stop.”

 _Fuck_ , Harry thought, rubbing his thumb over the skin just above Draco’s navel, drawing circles into the skin. Draco moved to kiss his neck, hand sliding up Harry’s chest and flicked at his right nipple. Harry arched up, seeking friction against his cock.

“Want to suck you,” Harry said. “Draco can I suck your cock?”

Draco paused and sat up, staring at him with hard eyes. Harry swallowed, wondering if he shouldn’t have said anything. He sat up.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I’m so—”

“Okay,” Draco said. “As long as I can watch you.”

“Yeah. If it gets to much…”

“I’ll let you know,” Draco assured him.

Moving around, Harry had Draco sit with his back supported by the pillows. He tugged at the joggers until they slid down halfway Draco’s thighs. Harry massaged Draco’s groin, kissing him as he slid his palm up and down the hardening shaft.

Out of habit, Harry closed his eyes, acutely aware that Draco watched him almost without blinking. He opened his eyes to see how dark Draco’s eyes had gone.

Then he backed away a little: just enough to have room to dip his head down, freeing Draco’s cock from the confines of his pants.

He licked Draco’s cock from root to tip, pleased at the hiss Draco released.

Harry looked at him, swirling his tongue around the slit as he did so. Draco’s eyes were wide, attentive, and unblinking. Harry closed his lips around the head of Draco’s cock and sucked gently.

Harry gently massaged Draco’s sack with one hand and held the shaft still in the other as he sucked. Draco moaned, running his hand through Harry’s unruly hair.

“Fuck, that’s… _fuck_ …”

He would smile, but opted to swallow a little more of Draco instead. Spit slid past his lips, coating cock and hand and providing a little more lubrication. Draco’s hips canted.

“Shit!” Draco cried. “Oh, _fuck_ …”

Harry hummed around him and Draco cursed once more before spilling into his mouth. His hand yanked at Harry’s hair, pulling strands out of the scalp.

Harry drank from him, swallowing. He released Draco, wiping his mouth as he studied Draco.

Pale skin was tinted pink.

His lips were red and parted.

His chest rose and fell with each breathe taken.

His cock was starting to soften, but still seemed eager to stand at attention, pointing at Harry as if eager for him to kiss it again. Draco looked nothing less than debauched.

Harry grinned and leaned in, kissing Draco’s lips. Draco responded, still half-breathless as they kissed. Draco pulled him closer, fingers curled tightly around Harry’s shirt.

Harry allowed it and threw one leg over Draco’s thigh, rubbing his cock against the leg.

“Want me to suck you, too?” Draco asked.

“If you want to,” Harry said, shuddering at a delicious spasm shooting up his spine. “ _Fuck…_ might not need you to suck me at all.”

Draco reached for his wand and waved it, banishing Harry’s clothes.

Harry shivered at the sudden exposure to the cold air.

He put his wand down and pulled Harry back to kiss him. Harry slipped his tongue inside Draco’s mouth and readjusted to slide their cocks together.

Draco reached pushed him off so to remove his shirt, then pulled him back down, crashing their lips together. He ran his hands over Harry’s back, blunt nails drawing down over skin and leaving pink lines down his skin.

Harry curled one hand around Draco’s cock and began to pump.

Draco replied by taking Harry’s in hand and stroked him. It only took half a dozen strokes for Harry to come. Harry continued to stroke Draco as he lifted the soiled hand to his lips.

Draco’s eyes widened as he watched Harry lick his own seed off his hand and fingers. Harry sucked at Draco’s fingers and watched Draco. He was close to a second orgasm.

So fucking close…

Draco tilted his head back, gasping and whimpering as he came again over Harry’s fingers.

“Shit, that’s…you…”

Harry licked his own hand clean of Draco’s seed as Draco tried to speak.

“Good?”

“Yeah…” Draco sighed.

Harry kissed him again, running his hand over Draco’s chest and drawing circles around his nipple.

A fist banged against the door.

“Harry, Draco, dinner is ready,” Molly called.

#

Save for the one time, Draco and Harry had not been intimate. Not in that way. And it didn’t seem either minded. Draco certainly didn’t. He was content, and it seemed so was Harry.

Instead, they spent much of their time between meals and studies alone: talking, laughing, and kissing. Harry seemed to enjoy wrapping his arms around Draco, holding him close, back to chest, when they were socializing with the others. Draco didn’t mind it. He usually felt comfortable.

Almost safe.

Almost.

There were moments that he forgot that he was safe. Most of these times were at night. Harry would be there for him, calming him down as reality tried to wash over the nightmares.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whisper afterward, still shaking. Harry would hush him and urge him to go back to sleep. Draco never could, afraid that the nightmares would return.

On Christmas morning, Draco woke to Harry’s arms circling around him.

He felt Harry’s lips against his neck and shoulder, pressing gentle kisses into his skin. Draco twisted around to face him and kissed Harry, pulling him closer. Harry hummed, responding kindly.

They laid side by side, trading kisses and light touches, gentle and sweet. Harry hummed again, as he slid a hand under Draco’ large nightshirt and rested it on the planes of his abdomen.

“You’re so hot,” Harry purred. “Can I suck you? Can I make you come in my mouth? Please? I want to make you fall apart.”

Draco groaned and pulled Harry closer, feeling the brunet’s cock pressing against his own. He kissed Harry, feeling his cock twitch as Harry nibbled on his lower lip. Harry’s cock twitched in turn and he ground his hips against Draco’s.

“Please?”

Draco ignored the plea again and pushed his hand beneath Harry’s waistband to cup his cock. Harry hissed, pupils widening just a little more as Draco stroked.

“I’ll let you suck me after you’ve come first,” he said, feeling wicked.

He kept his touch gentle yet firm: enough to be felt and give pleasure, but not enough to finish. Harry swallowed, rolling his hips against Draco’s palm.

“Though if it goes the way I want, you might not be able to do much else. Might have to straddle your head to get it done.”

“Fuck!” Harry hissed, spurting in Draco’s hand.

Draco kissed him and continued to stroke him, relishing in the way Harry shivered.

“Strip and sit on my face,” Harry ordered once the shivers ended.

Draco grinned. He disentangled himself from Harry and stood on his knees, pushing his pajama pants down. Harry watched him undress, licking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Draco kicked the pants away, letting them fall to the floor and removed his shirt as well.

Harry moved to lay back on a pillow, beckoning Draco to straddle him. Harry hooked his arms around Draco’s thighs and Draco held his cock to Harry’s lips. Harry closed his lips around him, moaning as he teased Draco with his tongue.

Draco groaned, lips parting as pleasure wracked through him.

“ _Fuck_ …” he whispered, running a hand through Harry’s hair.

Harry sucked and Draco cursed again as a lightening bolt of pleasure shot through him. Harry’s fingers dug into his skin, humming.

“Yes,” Draco hissed. “So close…I’m gonna… _fuck…_ ” He gasped, leaning forward, fingers clenched tight as his orgasm exploded. Harry swallowed around him, throat tightening and loosening as he drank from him. “Fuck…” he exhaled.

Harry let him go, cock slipping out of his mouth and lowering his hands from Draco’s thighs. Draco climbed off him, breathing heavily. Harry sat up and cupped Draco’s face before he kissed him, licking Draco’s lips. Draco returned the kiss, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“I want to just stay in bed,” Harry said. “See how many times I can make you come.”

“Yeah? Make a game of it?”

“Why not?” Harry said, grinning. “Whoever comes the most loses?”

“Not wins?”

“Well, I say ‘lose’ but it’d really be a win-win situation.”

Draco turned his head to kiss Harry’s neck. “And what are the rules of the game?”

He felt Harry’s pulse beneath his lips, felt the movement of his throat swallowing as he tried to think.

“Uh…free game so long as we make sure it’s okay with the other, first…um…Shit…um…we use the safe word if it gets too intense or we feel we’ve been pushed too far, which means we pause the game, or restart, or end, depending on how we’re feeling…”

Draco hummed, nipping at Harry’s neck. Harry cursed and his hips bucked up. Draco smirked against his lover’s neck, drawing the tip of his tongue over the bite marks.

“What else?”

“Erm…uh…fuck…can’t think…”

“But you can still talk?” Draco teased.

He ran one hand over Harry’s torso then slipped his hand underneath the large t-shirt.

“I always wanted to make you speechless, Potter.”

Harry groaned at a pinch at his breast. “Fuck.”

“Want to make you a babbling mess. Completely incoherent. Without a spell, of course.”

Draco pulled the garment off Harry and tossed it aside before pushing Harry down onto the bed and removing his pajama bottoms and pants.

“What do you think of that, Potter?”

Harry grinned impishly. “I’d like to see you try, Malfoy.”

Draco smirked and straddled Harry, leaning over him to kiss him as they rubbed their cocks together. Slick skin slid against skin, sending tiny shockwaves through them.

Draco kept his movements gentle and languid, hoping to draw it out as long as possible.

Harry took Draco’s hands in his own, fingers interlaced together. He watched Draco as though awestruck, eyes glossed in a lusty haze and lips slightly parted.

Draco leaned down and kissed him, rolling his hips against Harry’s a little harder and faster than before.

Harry tilted his head back, exposing his throat and groaning. Draco licked a stripe up his neck, from sternum to chin, drawing his tongue along Harry’s Adam’s apple.

He didn’t know why, just that it seemed the right thing to do. Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry whispered. “I’m gonna come…”

Draco grinned and slowed his hips to steady rolls. Harry cursed as the need for release abated.

“Ass,” he hissed.

Harry disentangled his hands from Draco’s, wrapping them around Draco’s back and rolling them over.

Draco’s breath caught in his breath and his heart jolted. Harry’s grin began to ebb, as if he could tell he caught Draco by surprise.

“Draco? You all right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll use the safe word if I’m not.”

Harry kissed him gently, running a hand over Draco’s torso and hip. His fingers brushed gently along the V of Draco’s hips. Draco gasped, tensing as the shock pushed him close to the edge.

“Fuck, that felt good,” he hissed.

Harry repeated the motion, drawing his fingers closer to Draco’s groin, gently massaging the muscles around his cock and balls. Draco gasped as he came from a gentle press against his perineum.

Pearly white semen dripped from his cock over his stomach. Harry shifted down and drew his tongue over Draco’s skin.

“Spunk doesn’t normally taste good,” Draco pointed out.

“Yours does,” Harry countered, grinning at him. Draco rolled his eyes, but did not protest. He ran fingers through Harry’s hair.

“We should leave the room before someone decides to walk in on us.”

Harry hummed, pressing kisses to Draco’s torso. “Well, I can see the issue with that. Fine. Let’s go.”

He stood grabbing their clothes. Draco took his own, pulling them on hastily and followed Harry out of the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind, the boys are still going to be having psychological issues given what they've gone through. Just b/c no one safe worded out this chapter doesn't mean there won't be times in the future where they might at one point or other.


	13. Chapter 13

He hated remembering.

When he remembered, he usually sank into a darkness which he had to mentally drag himself out of. Severus lifted his head, seeking out the time.

Sighing, he slumped back onto the bed, face buried into the pillow.

Even then, he couldn’t relax. His muscles were tight, ready to fight or flee at the slightest provocation.

He jumped at the sensation of weight joining him on the bed and sat up pointing his wand at…

A dog.

Sirius.

Severus lowered the wand and massaged his forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sirius crawled closer, looking at Severus with large puppy eyes.

He nudged him with his nose, tongue darting out to lick Severus’ hand.

“You can turn back into a human, you know.”

Sirius ignored that, pushing against Severus’ hand until Severus understood that he was to pet him.

“Fucking nutter,” he sighed, scratching Sirius’ head and behind the ears.

Sirius lifted one leg up to scratch at an itch, tail thumping the bed in heavy strokes.

Severus managed to chuckle, and moved to massage Sirius’ back and exposed side before he rolled onto his back, belly exposed and demanding belly rubs, which Severus obliged.

“Thank you,” he said. “I needed this as much as you.”

Sirius rolled over and licked his face. Severus cringed at the slobber now coating his face. Not that Sirius cared, even as Severus pushed him away, face curled in disgusted mask.

“Your breath stinks. You’d think being an animagus, your breath wouldn’t stink.”

Sirius stared at him, ears perked up then he changed back into a human. “Not everyone has perfect breath in the morning.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was? Smelled like ass.”

“Well, you should know.”

Severus punched his shoulder.

“Ow,” he whined.

Sirius smirked, then tackled Severus back down onto the bed.

“Oi! Get off!”

“Why should I?”

“Because I said so!”

“Hmm…I think we can come up with a better reason, than that, Sev.”

“And what exactly would you consider ‘a better reason?’”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Sirius laughed. “But I’ll give you a hint.” He rolled his hips against Severus’ groin. Severus swallowed, mouth gone dry.

Sirius had been a rather insatiable lover since they began this relationship. Severus didn’t mind that much, as his love life tended to be rather…stale.

Otherwise.

Sirius rolled his hips again and Severus groaned.

“Do you want me to ride you?” he asked.

Sirius grinned. “I do.”

“Then get the fuck off me and let me shower first. And brush your teeth.”

Sirius grinned. “Yes, Sir.”

He got off and Severus slid out of bed.

Severus followed him into the bathroom, shedding his night-clothes while the water warmed.

Sirius watched him through the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

Severus ignored his gaze, climbing into the shower and closing the curtains before dunking underneath the stream of water.

Sirius joined him after he’d brushed his teeth and kissed Severus’ neck before taking a wash cloth to his back. Severus relaxed into Sirius’ touch, which was both warm and gentle.

“Like that?”

Severus hummed in response, almost purring as Sirius’ touch grew firmer.

“Better to get massages lying down.”

“Good point, but this has its benefits, too,” Sirius said. “Easier to reach around.”

He circled his arms around Severus’ waist.

“And easier to kiss where I want.”

He pressed his lips to Severus’ shoulder, planting a soft kiss to the skin.

“And easier to turn you around.”

Severus moved to face him, letting the water beat down on his back.

“I thought you wanted me to ride you.”

“I can still want that and also like the idea of seducing you in the shower.”

“We can have shower sex or I can ride you, but not both.”

“Pity,” Sirius sighed. “Fine. I’m too lazy for shower sex right now anyway.”

Severus laughed.

A few minutes later, he shoved Sirius back onto the bed and straddled his lap.

Sirius sat up, kissing Severus and squeezing his hips. Severus kissed him back, running his hands through damp hair. He pulled away, grinning.

“Lie down.”

Sirius obeyed, locking his arms together behind his head. He watched, unblinking, as Severus prepared himself.

“Fuck,” Sirius whispered.

Severus smirked then lowered himself down on Sirius’ cock.

Sirius’ muscles flexed. Once fully seated, Severus let himself adjust to Sirius’ girth before feeling comfortable enough to move.

Sirius cursed again and moved his hands to hold Severus.

Severus pulled them off, threading their fingers together instead.  He moved steadily, building the pleasure up, relishing in the fullness he felt.

Severus kept his gaze on Sirius, watching for signs of either pleasure or discomfort.

Sirius pulled his hands free of Severus’ and sat up, taking Severus’ face in his hands and kissing him. Severus returned the kiss as he continued to attempt moving though it was a little harder with the adjustment. Sirius lowered his hands: one to Severus’ shoulder, the other to his cock.

Severus gasped as Sirius curled his hand around the length, and he squeezed. Sirius hissed.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Fuck! That feels good.”

Severus pushed him back down.

Sirius groaned, running his thumb over Severus’ slit with each upward stroke.

“You feel so good, Sev.”

Severus smirked, bending down to kiss him.

Sirius responded happily, taking the chance to roll them over and take over. He straightened his back, holding onto Severus’ waist as he began to thrust at a pace faster than Severus had dared.

Severus gasped aloud as Sirius pounded him, hitting his prostrate with every other thrust. Sirius moaned, digging his fingers into Severus’ flesh.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Don’t you dare come,” Severus growled. “Not yet.”

Sirius gasped, letting go of Severus’ hip to stroke his cock. Severus groaned as Sirius fisted him furiously.

“Come on, Love,” he moaned. “Come on, Sev. Come for me. Wanna see you come.”

Severus groaned back arching as his cock spurted seed over his stomach and chest.

“Oh, fuck,” Severus gasped, breathing hard.

Sirius continued to fist him, milking him. Every nerve was alive in him as he came. At last, Sirius let him go, continuing to thrust.

“Gonna come,” he warned just milliseconds before his orgasm hit, spilling inside Severus.

The hot liquid burned pleasantly inside him. Severus locked his legs around Sirius’ waist as Sirius rode out his orgasm.

Shaking, Sirius disconnected himself from Severus and rolled onto his back, gasping. He puffed out another curse before pulling Severus into his embrace.

“Happy Christmas, Sev,” Sirius mumbled before falling back asleep.

Severus stared at him as he slept.

#

Christmas music filled the silence between conversations and the enthusiastic shouts of “Jenga!”

Harry watched, amused, as Hermione taught Draco the game.

She sat back with him when he and Ron began to compete to see who could get the most blocks out without the tower toppling over.

So far, Harry judged that it was the most intense game of jenga he’d ever seen.

“Maybe you should introduce Monopoly,” Harry suggested.

Hermione laughed. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I shudder to think of what these two would do if they were to be taught Monopoly. Scrabble should be safe enough. Clue for something a little harder.”

“Or Sorry.”

“Or Battleship. Honestly, though, I think Draco and Ron might be too intense for each other when it comes to games.”

“So long as we watch them, no one will get hurt.”

“Supposedly.”

“Yeah.”

The tower fell and Draco cried, “Jenga!”

“You bumped the fucking tower!” Ron accused.

“I did not!” Draco snapped.

“Yes, you did!”

“Weasley, I’m six inches from it and not even touching the table right now!”

Hermione sighed. “God, what have I done?”

“Yeah, Hermione,” Harry said, grinning. “What were you thinking?”

She stood and pulled Harry to his feet.

“Maybe if we play with them, they’ll be less apt to tear each others’ throats out.”

“Let’s hope,” Harry said.

He plopped down at the corner of the table between Ron and Draco and Hermione the corner across from him.

Ron and Draco glared at each other through the whole rebuilding of the tower, but as expected, Hermione’s and Harry’s presence allowed them to resist the urge to cheat or accuse the other of cheating.

Two rounds more were played before Molly announced that it was time for lunch.

They heeded the call and filed into the dining room. Harry sat between Hermione and Draco, which put Ron as far from Draco as possible.

And vice versa.

“I regret teaching you both Jenga,” Hermione sighed as Ron and Draco shot glares at each other.

“It might not have been different were it wizard’s chess or gobstones.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Or exploding snap.”

“It’d be funnier,” Ron said.

“Yeah, you’d look better with singed eyebrows,” Draco retorted.

“Who said I’d be getting singed?”

“Okay, children, that’s enough,” Hermione said.

She smacked the back of Ron’s head and aimed to do the same to Draco, but he ducked behind Harry.

“I cannot protect you from her. Just take it like a man and it’ll be over soon.”

“No. Her punches hurt.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You deserved it,” Ron snapped.

“I know I did,” Draco admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want her to hit me again. This isn’t even on the same scale!”

Hermione sighed and turned to him.

“How about this: I won’t hit you if you don’t give me a reason to hit you.”

Harry laughed, slumping in his seat. Draco held his hand out to her, as if they were making a business deal rather than a truce.

“Done.”

Hermione took his hand and they shook once. She sat down beside Ron.

“So you’ll stop this pissing contest with Ron?”

“I wasn’t aware this was a pissing contest, but I’ll stop if he does.”

Ron snorted, “As if I’m the only one who starts it.”

“I’m trying to avoid getting hit here,” Draco laughed. “I don’t care who starts it, she ends it and it always ends up hurting like a bloody bitch.”

“Really, she punches me all the time!” Ron said. “I can’t get out of it, so why can you?”

“Because she and I shook on it. We made a pact. As long as I don’t give her a reason to hit me, I’m safe. You on the other hand, well…I will laugh. Every time.”

“Of course you will,” Ron grumbled.

Anything else that might’ve been said on the topic of Hermione’s volatile temperament was cut short by the platter of sandwiches laid out before them.

After lunch, they were encouraged – though Ron would say threatened – to do some homework before the rest of the Order showed up for dinner.

Hermione, having already finished her essays, offered to help Molly make the feast instead, leaving Harry alone to monitor Draco and Ron.

Normally, that wouldn’t be such an issue, but when your best friend and your new boyfriend didn’t quite get along, well…

At least they seemed to be trying. That was more than he thought he could hope for.

After another hour of silence, attempting to study and write, the three of them set the parchments aside and rebuilt the jenga tower.

“How is a muggle game so fun?” Draco asked as they stacked the blocks on top of each other. “I don’t understand why I like it.”

“Games are games,” Harry said. “They manage to be fun regardless.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either, Malfoy,” Ron said. “Hermione tried to show me how to play muggle chess and it’s just…it’s boring.”

“At least with muggle chess you don’t have to repair the pieces after every time you play,” Harry pointed out.

With the tower rebuilt, they decided to play oldest to youngest, so Hermione took the first block from the very bottom of the tower.

Harry and Draco held their breath when the tower wobbled, then released it in a whoosh when the tower stilled.

Draco aimed for a block located somewhere a little less daring and asked:

“What other games do Muggles have? Are they all like this?”

“Some,” Harry said, poking a center block from out of the tower. “Gobstones is similar to marbles or jacks. And then exploding snap is…I kind of want to say exploding snap is like uno or any matching card game, really, but I’m not entirely sure. Then there’s a variety of different board games, like Clue and Monopoly, but I’m not sure which of those would be most like in the wizard world.”

Ron pulled another block free that was perilously low on the tower.

“I wouldn’t mind trying other games. Jenga’s fun and all, but a bit tedious, you know.”

Draco stared at him, as though stunned. “You know words like ‘tedious’?”

“When you’re friends with the brightest witch of our age, you tend to have a rather broad vocabulary,” Harry said. He grinned. “However, Hermione and I are still trying to get him to say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“No,” Ron groaned. “Harry, no.”

“That’s too many syllables for him, Potter,” Draco said. “And no one uses a word that big anymore.”

“Except when singing,” Ron grumbled.

“But Ron, you make it so easy,” Harry said.

Ron tossed one of the blocks at Harry. It hit his clavicle solidly and fell in his lap.

“Ow,” Harry said, rubbing the offended area. “I will get Hermione.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

“Fine. I’ll get your mother.”

Ron groaned again. “I hate you, Potter.”

“You love me and you know it.”

“Not right now.”

Draco let them banter, pulling another block free of the tower. After which, he watched Harry and Ron argue, amused. Harry made his next move, but had grown careless and the tower toppled down once his block pulled free.

“Jenga!” Ron and Draco shouted.

Then glared at each other for a moment then Draco waved his wand and the blocks reset.

“One on one, Weasley?” Draco challenged.

“You’re on.”

“Oh, gods,” Harry mumbled, scooting away. “Maybe you two should surrender your wands for this. I don’t think Mrs. Weasley or Sirius would like hexes to start flying.”

“Give us some credit!” Ron snapped as Draco handed his wand to Harry with an exaggerated eye roll. Ron surrendered his own wand grudgingly.

From there, Harry watched them anxiously as they played what seemed to be the most competitive game of Jenga ever played.

#

After dinner, the order mingled in the parlor.

Talking, laughing, joking, and singing filled the silence.

Hermione was trying to teach a new game – Clue, this time – to the others.

So far, Clue was more favored by the older witches and wizards than the younger once that, yet again, could be seen playing Jenga in the other corner.

Harry was tired of Jenga, though, and took to playing clue with Sirius, Remus, and Hermione.

Thankfully, Draco opted out of Jenga as well to play gobstones with Charlie while Ron, Ginny, and the twins tried to outdo each other at yet another round of Jenga.

“I think its Mrs. Peacock,” Sirius said, “In the library with the candlestick.”

Harry revealed that he held the Mrs. Peacock card and Hermione the library card.

“Damn it.”

Once they made their annotations to the paper slips, they continued on with Remus going next.

Harry glanced over at Draco, who had screeched when the stone squirted ink at him, drenching his shirt. Charlie laughed and whooped as Draco cast a cleaning spell on his shirt.

Assured that all was well, he returned to the game, moving his Mr. Green piece into the game room.

Molly announced that desert was ready for anyone who wished for it. Several went to the kitchens, eager to try her apple pie, Figgie pudding, and other treats had been made for the occasion.

Harry didn’t go, though, still feeling full from dinner. Remus and Hermione joined the line to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Sirius alone.

“Don’t,” Harry warned as Sirius reached out to grab the envelope. His fingers hovered over the little packet and he stared at Harry with an arched brow.

“Don’t you want to know who did it?”

“We’ll find out at the end of the game. That’s the point of the game, Sirius.”

“The game is annoying,” Sirius said, but he pulled his hand away.

“No one’s fault your bad at deduction,” Harry said with a teasing grin.

Sirius snorted. “As if we’re really in a competition when Hermione’s playing,” he said.

“True, but even she has a chance of losing at games like this,” he said. “The only games she’s guaranteed at least ninety-five percent chance of winning are trivia games. Thankfully, Hermione’s nice enough not to bring them in.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sirius said, raising his glass of firewhiskey in the air before taking a sip. “How are you doing these days, Kid?”

Harry blinked, taken aback. “Uh…well…okay, I guess.”

“Good. And you’re all right with Draco here?”

Harry was about to assure him he was when he noticed the tiny smirk tugging Sirius’ mouth. Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

“How much do you know?”

“Oh? Well, I know you’re shagging, if nothing else. Granted, I think it’s a bit soon for both of you, but it’s a damn sight better than when you propositioned Remus.”

Harry blushed. “I am sorry about that,” he said.

“Why?”

“Well, I…kind of felt gross after that encounter.”

Sirius’ smile died.

“Harry, it’s not gross. A lot of kids get interested in adults – crushes on a young teacher, or even an actor or musician. Neither Remus nor I were mad at you for it. We were uncomfortable. And when you admitted that you had been abused sexually, well, yeah, I was pissed and disgusted, but not at you. I could never feel that way toward you.”

Sirius massaged his neck.

“You know what happened to you isn’t normal.”

Harry nodded. 

“What happened to Draco isn’t normal.”

He nodded again.

“I’m so sorry you felt self-revulsion. That was not my intent. I would never intentionally make you feel that way, okay?”

“I know. I don’t feel that anymore.”

“Good. You shouldn’t. You’re getting into a place where you’re comfortable enough to move on with someone closer to your age and having fun. That’s totally fine.”

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of butterbeer. “So you know about me and Draco.”

Sirius grin returned. “It’s not as subtle as you think.”

“What about you and Snape?”

The grin widened. “Problem?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “But it’s…well…”

Sirius hummed and took another swig of whiskey.

“Severus might not be the most likeable person, but he and I have a lot more in common than we realized till recently. Too add I’m not the sort to care about physical appearance like some are. He pretends to be a hard ass, I suppose. In some ways, he is, but I guess I need that. Especially given how I was and sometimes still am.”

“How would dating work, then?” Harry asked. “You’re still an escaped con.”

Sirius exhaled heavily, “Yeah. I know. It’ll be easier once my name is cleared…until then, we’re making do where we can.”

Harry hummed, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “So…for now, just a physical relationship?”

Sirius blushed and sputtered.

Harry’s grin widened. “I don’t care, Sirius. It’s fine. It’s just a little weird because, well…it’s you and my teacher. How can it not be a little weird?”

Sirius chuckled. “All right,” he said. “I can respect that. But you are all right with it, for the most part?”

“For the most part? Yes.”

“All right, then. Let’s change topic. I’m going to get dessert while I still can. Want anything?”

Harry shook his head, stretching. “I’m good for now.”


	14. Chapter 14

ON HIATUS

I left my job a couple months ago and haven't been writing since, even though I am at the job I was at before the last one. Also getting ready to move out and the like while job hunting. 

Until everything starts to settle again, it may be best if I don't write since I'm not really writing at the moment anyway...


End file.
